What of Trust and Betrayal?
by cindy123
Summary: Athos learns of d'Artagnan and Milady and he doesn't react well. Will the brotherhood survive once the dust has settled? Much angst, hurt d'Artagnan and comfort to come.
1. Chapter 1

So, I normally write Supernatural stories. I have recently found the Musketeers and I have fallen in love! Supernatural will always be my first love, but this show is a very close second. This is my first Musketeer story and I am beyond nervous. I haven't been aquainted with these characters for very long so please forgive me if I don't quite catch their personalities. I really love these guys, but in this first chapter it may not seem like I do. So, I'll let you read and hopefully you'll let me know what you think.

Cindy

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters-I am only borrowing them for a short time.

**Chapter 1**

Athos was a little more than drunk when he turned the corner on the way to his apartments and saw them. He recoiled back as if to avoid the venom of a striking snake, his heart hammering in his chest as he saw d'Artagnan bow and kiss the hand of the woman who he, Athos, most loved, and hated in this world. He sank back into the shadows, his eyes glued to the scene before him. He drew in a quick breath when the woman reached up and gently cupped d'Artagnan's cheek before she turned and climbed into the carriage that awaited her. His eyes narrowed as he watched d'Artagnan's gaze follow the carriage as it rolled away, the young man only turning away when the carriage was out of sight. d'Artagnan held a satchel in his hand that Athos surmised held several coins and his blood boiled at the implication. He waited until the Gascon was out of sight before he stepped from the shadows and slowly made his way to his rooms. Later he knew that all of his brothers would convene at his place and then he would make the young man, who had so easily found his way into their tight knit group, tell him everything about his dealings with the woman who was his wife.

**M**

Aramis knew something was up the second he and Porthos entered Athos' apartment. The man was drunk, if the empty wine bottles strewn across the table were any indication. Not that that was any big surprise, but this was different. He had barely acknowledged his friends when they had entered, his cold eyes moving quickly back to the door once it had shut. Aramis and Porthos shared a confused look before Porthos stepped forward and gazed down at his friend.

"Uh, Athos…is there something wrong?" the big man asked nervously before once again glancing over at Aramis.

"Why would anything be wrong?" Athos drawled as he lifted an eyebrow and looked up at the man before him.

"You tell us," Aramis said as he stepped up next to Porthos. "You look like you have murder in your eyes."

Athos shrugged as he turned his attention once more to the door. "Where is the whelp?" he asked without removing his gaze from the door.

"You mean d'Artagnan?" Porthos asked curiously. "'e's not too far behind us. 'e…"

"He is here," Athos said before standing, all the while watching the door.

Aramis and Porthos shared another look, but shrugged when they heard the footfalls that announced their little brother's ascent up the stairs. They turned as the door opened and smiled when d'Artagnan slipped into the room, a shy smile spreading across his face as he saw his friends waiting for him. The smile slipped as he met Athos' eyes and the young man took an unconscious step back toward the still open door.

"Athos…what is wrong? W-Why are you looking at me like that?" the Gascon asked softly as he quickly glanced at Aramis and Porthos, both of whom merely shrugged their ignorance to what was going through their leader's mind.

"Nothing is wrong, d'Artagnan. Come in and sit down…we have much to discuss," the elder Musketeer said as he sank once more into the chair he had been sitting on when Aramis and Porthos had arrived.

d'Artagnan swallowed nervously then softly shut the door. He took the chair near the fireplace, his eyes warily watching his mentor as the man followed his every move. "What do you wish to talk about?" he asked when he could take the silence no longer.

Athos tilted his head, any hint of drunkenness gone as he stared intently at the squirming young man. "How long?" he asked, anger building in him when d'Artagnan furrowed his brow in confusion.

"How long what?" the Gascon asked softly.

Athos leaned forward, blue eyes intense as he stared his young friend down. "How long since you started sleeping with my wife?"

d'Artagnan sucked in a startled breath, his eyes widening at the older man's words. "What? Athos, I do not know what you are talking about," he cried breathlessly.

"My wife…Anne…the woman I saw you with earlier. How long have you been sleeping with her?" Athos growled low his throat.

The other two men, their eyes darting from one friend to the other, shuffled uncomfortably where they stood, until finally Aramis stepped forward when it became apparent that the younger of the two was too shocked to speak. "You have a wife?" he asked of his friend.

"Stay out of this," Athos drawled as he glanced over at his friends. "This is between the boy and myself," he added, his gaze turning cold as it returned to the shaking form of d'Artagnan. "Speak, boy…tell me how long!"

"Athos…that woman, Milady De Winter, she…"

"She is my wife! My dead wife come back from the grave! I told you about her! I trusted you and you…you betrayed me!" Athos bellowed as he came up off the chair, knocking it to the floor with a heavy crash.

d'Artagnan was on his feet as well, the young man stumbling back, away from the rage he saw in his mentor's eyes. He shifted his gaze to the other two men in the room, but they could only stare back in shock. He turned back to Athos and held his hand out before him as the man took a step toward him. "No…Athos, no…I did not betray you! I did not know! It happened before I met you…the woman at the inn. Please, Athos, I did not know who she was! You have to believe me!" he cried, dark eyes pleading with his friend to understand.

"So, you have been sleeping with her since before we met…"

"Only that one time, Athos…never since, I swear!"

"I do not believe you. You are a liar! I saw the satchel in your hand…what was she paying you for? Are you spying for her?" Athos asked as he came around the table, face red with rage.

d'artagnan took a step toward his friend, the young man needing to get through to the older man. Porthos took a step forward as well, his eyes moving from one musketeer to the next. "Uh, d'Artagnan, it may be better if you kept your distance," he said warily.

Athos jerked his head around and glared at his two friends. "I said to stay out of this! Back away, Porthos!" he hissed before turning his sights back onto d'Artagnan. "Is any of what you have told us true? Or is it all a lie?"

d'Artagnan straightened, his eyes shining at the accusation. How could Athos think that about him after everything they had been through together? He shook his head as he stared at his friend. "I have never lied to you, Athos," he whispered. "I have never lied to any of you," he added as he glanced over at the other two men.

"You took money from her. I saw it! Is she the one who financed your entrance in the contest as well? What is her plan? How much has she paid you to betray us?!" Athos seethed.

"Athos…"

"How long have you been working with her, d'Artagnan? Did you kill that man at the inn for her? Is that when it started, or was it earlier?"

"No! I did not kill that man! I met her at the inn…she framed me!"

"And yet you still meet with her?" Aramis asked from across the room.

"She…she is very persuasive," d'Artagnan softly said, his sad eyes turning to the medic. "But, I do not trust her…there is something about her…"

"You took money from her just this evening!" Athos bellowed.

"Not money! A gift! Just a gift, for winning the contest!" d'Artagnan looked at each of his friends, beseeching them to believe him. His heart sank when he saw the doubt in their eyes. "Please…"

"Was your father a part of the plan? Was his death a part of the plan, or was that just an unfortunate accident? Does she have you so trapped in her web that you would allow your own father to be killed just so she can destroy me?" Athos asked, his voice low, yet menacing.

d'Artagnan stumbled back as if struck. "No…" d'Artagnan whispered, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, eyes moving to each of his friends, begging them to understand, to not believe what Athos was implying. When he still saw doubt, he turned back to his mentor, his hand dropping to his side.

"You cannot believe that, Athos. You cannot," he softly said.

"I do not know what to believe anymore. I thought you were our friend…our brother…but, then I see you with her and now…"

"You think that I would kill my own father? That I would allow him to die? For her?" d'Artagnan cried. "I helped save you, Athos! Why would I do that? I have risked my life for you…for all of you! How can you even begin to doubt my loyalty to you?"

"Greed and lust will make men do things that they never imagined they would be able to do," Athos calmly stated. "That woman is an enchantress. She had me fooled once, but never again."

"Athos, I have never done anything for her…nothing! I met her at that inn. We…we spent one night together and then…you know the rest. It was not until just recently that she showed herself again. I've seen her only a few more times since meeting you. You were right about one thing…she did give me the money needed for the contest, but I told her I would pay her back when I won. I considered it a loan."

Athos considered the young man before him, his heart yearning for what he had said to be the truth, but his head, still influenced by alcohol, unwilling to listen to what his heart was saying. He shook his head, confused as to what he should do. He knew what he saw, but the words d'Artagnan spoke, the look in his eyes, told him that maybe he was wrong. He closed his eyes, seeing the young man and his wife together in his mind and his knees went weak. He grasped the table then opened his eyes and looked at the pale face before him.

"I want to believe you, but I have been betrayed before by the very woman you now align yourself with. I cannot trust you now…I have too much to lose if I do…we all do," he finally said, his hand gesturing to his two friends who stood numbly watching him.

d'Artagnan once again turned to Aramis and Porthos, praying that he would find some sort of support there. "Aramis? Porthos? Please, you cannot believe that I would betray you," he pleaded.

Porthos dropped his eyes, unable to speak through the shock of the moment. He loved this boy like a brother and had never seen anything in him that would indicate he could be anything other than how he saw him, but he had known Athos longer and there was just enough possibility there to make him doubt the young man now. He flinched slightly when Aramis finally did respond. "I do not know what to believe, d'Artagnan. I have trusted you with my life, with my brother's lives, but I trust Athos more. I do not know who this woman is, but I believe in Athos and…I…"

"Just stop…you have said enough," d'Artagnan softly said. "I thought I had found a family to replace the one I had lost, but it was not meant to be. I guess it was naïve of me to think that I could ever fit in here…that I had found kindred spirits in the three of you. I will leave and you will never have to see me again. I resign my commission…you can tell the captain." The young man dropped the cloak from his back then slowly removed the pauldron from his shoulder. He held it out before him then dropped it to the floor before turning to take his leave. His hand was on the door knob when Athos' voice called out.

"Stop…you are not going anywhere."

d'Artagnan turned, dark eyes sparking with hurt and anger. "I am leaving! You all have made it perfectly clear what you really think of me! That you could believe, even for one second, that I would kill, or allow my father to be killed? That I would betray you? There is nothing left to do but for me to leave!" he shouted.

Athos moved forward, a small sliver of doubt piercing his troubled mind. "I said you are staying!" he hissed.

d'Artagnan shot toward him, his hands ripping open his jacket and shirt until his chest was bared for the man before him. "Then kill me!" he cried, tears welling in his eyes, but the young man refused to let them fall. "Run me through or let me be…I do not care which one. My life is forfeit now anyway…what do I have to live for? My father is dead, my farm is gone, Constance made her choice and now you have all made yours. Kill me or let me go."

Athos shook with the rage and pain that filled him. What if he was wrong? What if the young Gascon was stronger than he gave him credit for? Could it be possible for the lad to withstand his temptress wife when he had been unable to? He thought that maybe he was, but words had been spoken that could not be taken back. He stepped back and dropped his eyes. "Go," he whispered as he reached for the half empty bottle of wine on the table.

d'Artagnan nodded and moved to the door once more. He stopped at the door and reached into the pocket of his jacket. Pulling his hand out, Athos could see the satchel held there. d'Artagnan tossed the satchel to the floor where it landed atop his discarded cloak. He dropped his eyes and turned to the door, opening it slowly, hands trembling as he did so.

"d'Artagnan…"

"Leave me be, Porthos…please," the heart broken young man said as he slipped out the door, leaving a void behind that felt too big to ever be filled again.

**M**

The three men watched the door as it clicked shut, listened as their brother descended the stairs. Porthos made a move toward the door, his heart aching as he felt the loss of their youngest. He stopped when he reached it though, the large man unable to open it to follow. The pain in d'Artagnan's eyes, the betrayal he saw in their depths…how could he even think of going after him now? What right did he have? What right did any of them have? He had stood there, numb with shock, while listening to Athos' accusations and he had said nothing. Aramis had said nothing, except to question the Gascon. He turned and looked at his friends and shook his head. Aramis swallowed against the dryness of his throat then stepped to where d'Artagnan had dropped his cloak. He knelt down and reached for the satchel that lay in the middle of the cloak. Opening it, he looked inside and sighed. He dumped the contents into his hand and looked up at Athos.

"Trinkets…and a small bunch of flowers," the medic said.

Athos brushed a hand over his face and let out a long, shaky breath. "Forget-me-nots," he whispered, the color draining from his face.

Porthos moved forward, dark eyes moving from what Aramis held in his hand to Athos. "What do the flowers mean, Athos?" he asked.

Athos looked at both of his brothers and shook his head. "It means that she has staked her claim to him. It means that she has only wicked intentions for him," he answered. "I believe I have made a terrible mistake," he added as he dropped his head in shame.

So, yeah. I did that. Please don't hate me. And please let me know what you think. I will try to get another chapter done as quickly as possible, but that all depends on how busy work is. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all, can I just say...WOW! You guys are so amazing! I am blown away by the interest in this story. I was so afraid to of writing something other than Supernatural, but I see that my fear was unfounded :) The follows and favorites and the reviews...thank you so much! I did not expect this at all and I am so flattered and grateful to all of you. Just, wow. I was so happy that I decided I had to get another chapter written and posted for you before the crazy time begins next week at work. This chapter is shorter, but I really wanted to get something out before the weekend.**

**To those asking about whether I plan to write anymore Supernatural stories, especially in the Three Brothers verse...yes I do. I have just been at a complete loss for quite some time, but I will not abandon my Winchesters!**

**So, with that, I will let you get on with the story. **

**Chapter 2**

d'Artagnan stumbled into the street after bursting through the door that led to Athos' rooms. The tears he had held at bay flowed freely now and pain speared his heart, the ache so excruciating he wondered if it would ever go away. He steadied himself against the side of the building, his knees threatening to buckle. He heaved a great huff and pushed away from the building, refusing to let himself collapse. He would be damned if he let his former friends find him and see such weakness. They already hated him, he would not allow them to ridicule him as well. He hurried down the darkened street as quickly as he could, the young Gascon eager to put as much distance between him and the Inseparables as possible. His thoughts went to the past months and he wondered how things had turned so bad so quickly. Earlier this day he had considered himself as one of the Inseparables and now here he was running away from them, crying like a baby and wondering where it all went wrong.

After what seemed like hours, d'Artagnan finally stopped. He propped himself against the side of a building and bent over, trying to catch his breath. Finally, once he was able to breathe without gasping, he straightened and looked around. He didn't recognize this part of Paris and wondered at how distracted he must have been to wander the streets so aimlessly that he had ended up in a place he'd never seen before. The street was empty at this late hour, which d'Artgnan was thankful for. He took a few moments to think about what he would do. He had nowhere to go. The garrison was no longer his home and there was no place for him with Constance. He had no money to secure a room at even the lowliest inn. He sighed as he realized he was well and truly alone. He didn't even have his cloak to wrap around himself to shield his body from the chill of the night. He shook away those thoughts and let loose a humorless chuckle. He was bone weary and exhausted, his body suddenly begging for rest, but where would he go?

d'Artagnan straightened himself and looked around. All of the buildings were dark at this late hour, the windows all shuttered tight against the cool night air. He spotted an alleyway just down from him and sighed. Maybe he could find himself an alcove or such to provide some protection from the elements. He trudged to the alleyway and stepped into the shadows. He had to squint against the darkness, but was able to find an entrance alcove to a boarded up doorway, meaning nobody would bother him if he rested there for a bit. He sunk down to the ground and pulled his knees up, his body leaning against the door. He wrapped his arms around himself to try to provide some warmth against the chill and dropped his head against the door and closed his eyes. His thoughts immediately went to his friends and pain filled his heart once more. He fell into a fitful sleep, completely unaware of the person who watched him from the shadows…the same person who had followed him from the time he left his friends behind.

**M**

"_I believe I have made a terrible mistake," he added as he dropped his head in shame._

Aramis stood from where he'd been knelt down and brushed his hand through his hair. "Why did you keep the fact that you had a wife from us?" he asked, his dark eyes staring coolly at the elder musketeer.

Athos looked up and shrugged his shoulders. "I never told you because I thought she was dead. I wanted to forget that time in my life," he answered in his slow drawl. "Why does it matter?" he added, the slur in his voice returning now that the adrenaline had worn off.

Porthos, who had been pacing by the door, debating whether to take off after d'Artagnan or stay with his brothers, stopped and turned indignant eyes upon Athos. "Why does it matter? We just lost our brother because of the wife we never knew you 'ad and you dare to ask why does it matter?!" he growled.

"He never should have aligned himself with her. She is a very dangerous woman who can only bring darkness to him," Athos softly said as he slowly shook his head.

"He did not know who she was, Athos! He did not know who you were!" Porthos seethed. "You cast him out, possibly right into her clutches and yet you sit there, drinking your wine like nothing has happened!"

"Do not speak to me in that way, Porthos!" Athos roared as he jumped to his feet.

Aramis stepped forward, in between the two men, anger flashing in his eyes. "Stop it! The both of you! This is not helping!" he snapped.

"He accused d'Artagnan of spying on us!" Porthos cried. "He accused him of killing his own father!"

"And you stood there and said nothing while I did so!" Athos shouted. "If you were so concerned with my words, why did you say nothing?!" Athos sank back onto his chair, his blue eyes staring up at his friends as if to say, _why did you not stop me?_

"You are right…we should have spoken up. We should have never allowed one ounce of doubt to cloud our judgement, but we did and now we must do everything in our power to rectify what we have done," Aramis said. The medic moved to where Athos sat and knelt before him. "Please, Athos, tell me that you do not believe your accusations. Please tell me…tell us…that we are going to fix this," he pleaded.

Athos looked at his brother with such sorrow that Aramis nearly gasped. "I knew the second I looked into his eyes that I was wrong, but I could not stop myself. The heat of the moment…the wine…"

"Do not blame the wine!" Porthos hissed. "You function just fine even when you can barely stand! Admit that you were enraged by seeing d'Artagnan with her…that you were jealous!"

Athos was on his feet again and across the room with speed neither of his friends expected. He had Porthos' jacket in his hands and had the larger man shoved up against the wall before either man could react. "You think I am jealous!? I hate that woman…she took everything from me and now she has taken d'Artagnan as well! I am not jealous of her, I am fearful for d'Artagnan!" he bellowed, his face red with rage.

Porthos took hold of Athos' wrists and shoved him away. "If you are so fearful for him, why did you accuse him of such 'orrible things? Why not tell him how dangerous she is? Why act like the jealous husband instead of the worried brother?"

Athos shook his head and turned away. "I do not know. I only saw what she had done to me and I could not see beyond that. I know what she is capable of. If she is here, it is to ruin me, and what better way than to use someone so close to me."

"That does not make sense, Athos," Aramis said. "When d'Artagnan first met her, he had yet to meet you. How could she know that he was on his way to kill you to avenge his father? There is no way that our young Gascon could have been employed beforehand to help her destroy you. That would mean that he intended for his father to die."

"I know, Aramis. I was not thinking clearly then and I do not know what to think now. The one thing I do know is that whatever her intentions are with d'Artagnan, they are not good," Athos said in reply.

"Do you think the boy is in danger?" Porthos asked, dread filling his heart.

Athos looked at Porthos, then at Aramis and sighed. "If she is using him to get to me and she discovers that he knows who she really is, I believe that he could be in very grave danger," he answered.

Porthos stepped toward the door, his hand already on the knob when he spoke. "Then we need to find d'Artagnan before she does," he said as he opened the door and slipped into the hall, the other two musketeers following close on his heels.

"What if we find him and he does not want anything to do with us?" Aramis asked as they descended the stairs.

"We will cross that bridge when we get there, but right now we need to find him before Anne does. I have a very bad feeling," Athos answered solemnly.

**M**

The figure crouched down before the sleeping young man, cold eyes watching, a slight smile on her blood red lips as he mumbled softly in his sleep. She could tell that he was dreaming and that his dreams held only pain for him. Her smile deepened as she reached out with soft, cool fingers and lightly stroked his reddened cheek.

"Oh, young d'Artagnan, so filled with pain and sorrow. What have your brothers done to you?" she whispered. "Do not worry, the cardinal will take very good care of you. Better than your brothers ever could."

**TBC**

**So, that is it for now. I will try to get the next chapter done before too much time has passed. Thank you all once again for your kind words! They mean the world to me.**

**Cindy**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here I am again, once again blown away by the support for my story. You guys rock! I wish I had the time to respond to each of your reviews, but with two jobs, I am doing well just to get a chapter done on a regular basis. Please know that your reveiws mean the world to me and keep me writing! Luckily, I found some time throughout the day today to write the next chapter. Just a warning, there is unwanted touching in this chapter (I am so mean to our young musketeer). So, without further ado...read on:**

**Chapter 3**

d'Artagnan startled awake at the feel of the cool fingers upon his cheek. He instinctively grabbed the hand that touched him and pushed it away while at the same time attempting to push himself away, his escape hindered by the door behind him. He blinked his eyes against the darkness and sucked in a quick breath when a face came into focus.

"Milady," he hissed as he tried to push himself along the alcove wall in an attempt to escape her gaze.

"Shhh, it is alright, d'Artagnan," Milady cooed softly. "It is I…you have nothing to fear from me," she added as she once again reached out to touch his face.

d'Artagnan jerked his head away, hissing as it hit against the wall behind him. "Do not touch me!" he growled, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

"What is this? Why do you act afraid? Are we not friends? Lovers?" Milady asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

The young Gascon scooted up the wall, his dark eyes never leaving the face of the woman before him. "We are not lovers! And we are not friends," he spat venomously.

"But we are, d'Artagnan. I paid for your entry into the contest…the contest that led to your commission with the Musketeers. You owe me," Milady crooned, a cool smirk curling her red lips.

"I will pay you back for that. I only owe you that and once I have repaid you, you will leave me alone and never seek me out again!" d'Artagnan hissed. "How did you find me anyway? Were you following me?"

Milady smiled and moved closer to the trapped young man. "I will not leave you alone. You interest me. Besides, I notice that you do not wear your pauldron, nor your blue musketeer's cloak. That is interesting to me. Plus, you are sleeping in the street. Something has happened…something that had you hurry from the apartments you went to earlier and not return to your room at the garrison. So, d'Artagnan, what is it that sent you into the night without your cloak and pauldron…and your friends?"

"So, you were following me. Why?" d'Artagnan asked, ignoring her question.

Milady shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "Like I said, you interest me. I cannot stop thinking about you, if you must know. The touch of your lips on my skin. The feel of you…"

"Stop it. You care nothing about me, only what you think I can do for you," d'Artagnan said, his dark eyes narrowed in distrust.

"What has brought on this sudden change of heart? You were so willing to bed me, to accept my money, and now you do not trust me?" Milady questioned suspiciously. "Something has happened with your musketeer friends…something that has driven you to escape into the cold and sleep in an alleyway, without your treasured pauldron."

"Nothing has happened…"

"d'Artagnan, please…do not treat me as if I am stupid. I can see the pain in your eyes. Your heart is broken and it isn't from losing sweet Constance. This is different," Milady said, her head cocked slightly as she watched the emotions playing over the young Gascon's face.

"You do not know anything about me! Just step aside and let me pass. I will repay you the money you provided…now let me be," d'Artagnan snapped.

"You have no place to go. You can't sleep in the streets…you'll either freeze or be killed. Come with me, you can stay at my apartments," Milady suggested, the woman smiling as coyly as she could.

"I will not come with you. I can take care of myself…now let me pass!"

"I am afraid I cannot let you do that, d'Artagnan," Milady hissed as she moved closer to him, her hand moving to his side.

d'Artagnan felt pressure at his side and looked down. He jerked his head up when he realized that Milady had a pistol held to him. He tried moving away, but she only pressed the muzzle further into his ribs.

"Make one move to escape and you will die. You have no choice but to come with me. The cardinal is very interested in you…almost as much as I am and you will do as we wish or you will not like the outcome," Milady said, her eyes cold now as she dared the young man to make a move.

d'Artagnan glared at the woman and tried once more to move away. "So, you have aligned yourself with the cardinal. The cardinal has no claim to me and nor do you. If you take me it is kidnapping and the musketeers will not let that go without severe punishment," he hissed.

Milady let out a laugh and grabbed the Gascon's arm. "Oh, d'Artagnan, I think you know that I have figured out that you are no longer a musketeer. They will not be coming for you. If they cared about you they would not have let you run out into the night alone and unprotected," she said as she tugged the young man from the alcove, the pistol pressed firmly to his side, and guided him toward the street and her waiting carriage.

d'Artagnan allowed himself to be led to the carriage, the scene from earlier playing through his head. His friends, his brothers had turned away from him, had cast him aside like he meant nothing, and for what? He had been loyal to them, had risked his life for them, had nearly lost it for them and they turned on him because of a woman. Porthos and Aramis had stood by Athos without a second thought. And Athos…his mentor? He had looked at d'Artagnan with nothing short of hatred in his eyes, his words spewing heart rendering cruelty that nearly brought the young man to his knees once again, the strong hand on his arm the only thing keeping him upright. He reached the carriage and the open door and suddenly he realized the danger he was in. He tried to pull away, the young man turning his face toward Milady, only to stumble back as she brought the pistol up hard against his temple. She looked over his shoulder as he fought to stay on his feet and nodded before slamming the gun against his head once more. As darkness overcame him, d'Artagnan felt strong arms wrap around him and shove him up and onto the floor of the carriage. He watched with half open eyes as Milady climbed in and sat above him, her eyes cold as she smiled down at him. The door to the carriage slammed shut and a moment later it lurched forward. d'Artagnan's last conscious thought was of his friends. Would they notice that he was gone? Would they realize what had happened to him? Would they care? A single tear slipped down his cheek as the darkness won and he was swept away where the heartbreak could not reach him.

**M**

Athos was breathing heavily when he reached his apartments in the wee hours of the morning. Dawn was still a few hours off so the air still held the deep chill of night making it so the musketeer could see each puff of breath as it was exhaled. He turned to his right when he heard footsteps, his heart leaping in hope only for him to frown in disappointment when he saw Aramis approaching alone. The younger man was out of breath as well and his eyes portrayed the same disappointment.

"I see you had as much luck as I did," Athos murmured as he met his friend's eyes.

Aramis sadly nodded his head and leaned against the wall beside Athos. "I looked everywhere, Athos. It is like he disappeared into thin air," the medic responded softly.

"Maybe Porthos had better luck," Athos said, though in his heart he felt that his youngest brother may be lost to them.

"Maybe. Let us go up to your rooms and await his return and hope that he has brought our young friend back to us," Aramis suggested as he pushed away from the wall.

Athos nodded and followed Aramis up the stairs and to his rooms. He stoked the fire in the fireplace then dropped heavily into the chair at the table. He eyed the half full bottle of wine, but decided that he needed to have his wits about him if Porthos had indeed found d'Artagnan. Aramis smiled slightly and took the chair opposite Athos. "We will find him, Athos," he said, praying to God that he was right.

It was a half hour later when the two musketeers heard heavy footfalls on the stairs and they both rose in unison and turned to the door expectantly. Their hearts dropped when a very dejected Porthos shuffled through the door, slamming it angrily behind him.

"The lad has well and truly disappeared," Porthos muttered as he moved toward his two friends.

"Damn it!" Athos growled as he dragged his hand through his messed up hair.

"Where could he have gone?" Aramis asked his friends. "Did either of you check his room at the garrison?"

"I did, but he was not there. All of his things are still there," Athos answered.

Porthos cleared his throat and reached his hand up to scratch nervously at the back of his head. "You don't think he would go to her, do you?" he asked.

Athos looked over at his friend and shrugged. "I do not think he would, but I cannot be sure. I hope not because if he tells her that he knows who she is…well, I do not even want to think about what she may do. She is a ruthless woman and I could see her slitting his throat without a second thought," he said.

There was silence for several minutes as the implications of what Athos had said sunk in. They had done this, they had put d'Artagnan in this position. Athos, with his accusations…Porthos and Aramis with their silence. Fear for d'Artagnan and guilt at how they had treated him kept each man lost in his own thoughts until finally Aramis broke the silence.

"I do not think it would do any good to go back out searching right now. We all need food and sleep if we are going to continue the search, but first we need to know everything about the woman who poses such a danger to our young Gascon friend," he said, his dark eyes meeting Athos' gaze.

Athos seemed ready to balk, but finally nodded his head and dropped back down on his chair. And so began the story of Milady de Winter.

**M**

Awareness came back slowly and painfully for d'Artagnan. The first thing he became aware of was the steady pounding in his head. He peeled open his eyes despite the pain and was immediately overcome with dizziness. His stomach roiled and he had to swallow deeply to keep from expelling what little he had eaten the day before. He closed his eyes and waiting for the dizziness to lessen before he slowly opened them again. The room he was in was dimlit, with just a few candles burning near him so it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. There wasn't much to see…a small table against the wall held an ornate wine bottle with a few small glasses beside it. A single lit candle sat just beside the glasses. A mirror hung over the table on the wall and it was when d'Artagnan caught his reflection that he realized he was tied to a chair, his arms pulled behind and fastened to the seat back while each ankle, he discovered, was tied to a chair leg. He pulled at the bindings that secured his wrists to the back of chair, but cried out when the motion sent pain spearing through his head, his vision wavering at the onslaught of agony.

The young Gascon took several deep breaths to calm the pain and when the worst of it had once again passed, he looked up at the mirror again. Dread filled him when he saw that he had been stripped down to just his braies and shirt. His doublet and pants, as well as his boots were gone leaving him feeling vulnerable and embarrassed. He turned his head to try to make out anything else in the room, but the movement made his vision waver and he realized that he must be suffering from at the very least a slight concussion. He returned his gaze to mirror and could see that blood trailed down the left side of his face from his temple and down his neck where it had then soaked into the collar of his shirt. Then a concussion for sure the young man thought as he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest.

d'Artagnan felt the darkness encroaching again and would have let it take him if not for the sound of a door opening somewhere out of his line of vision. He jerked his head up and was assaulted by the worst pain he'd felt so far since awakening. He was so overwhelmed by the pain that he didn't notice the person who came to stand above him. So intent on keeping conscious, the young man didn't hear the voice that spoke. He did, however feel the slap that stung his cheek and sent his head reeling once more. It was all he could do to keep from vomiting. Finally, after several minutes, the pain receded and nausea eased. He felt fingers cup his chin and raise his head and he would have shook them off if he didn't think the movement would send him on another pain filled ride. He opened his eyes and stared up into the cold, lovely face of Milady de Winter, his heart immediately beginning to pound in his chest at the hungry look she gave him.

"Well, you are finally awake. I was beginning to think I would have to start the party without you," Milady whispered as she leaned down, her lips ghosting over d'Artagnan's cheek seductively.

"D-Do not t-touch me," d'Artagnan said, his voice weak, much to his chagrin.

The woman chuckled, but straightened then pulled her hand away. She stood above the Gascon, studying his face intently. Finally, she spoke. "You know who I am and that is most unwelcome news."

d'Artagnan swallowed against the sudden fear and glared up at the woman. "What are you going to do to me?" he asked shakily.

Milady cocked her head and pursed her lips. "Well, I should kill you, but…"

"But?"

"But, the cardinal would be most displeased with me if I did that. So, basically, my hands are tied," Milady answered. A devilish smile twisted her lips as she gazed down at the helpless boy. "Of course, mine are only tied figuratively," she said as she moved forward a step then maneuvered herself onto d'Artagnan's lap.

The Gascon struggled to push the woman off, but his condition left him weak and she was much stronger than her appearance let on. She reached up and took a handful of hair at the back of the young man's head and pulled until his neck was stretched out in front of her. Leaning forward, she began to nuzzle and kiss his neck and collarbone, her tongue gliding softly over the heated skin, her fingers unconsciously pulling harder on his hair as her mouth sucked at the delicate skin. d'Artagnan groaned as pain raced through him at the abuse she was dealing. Finally, Milady let loose of his hair, her hand pushing his face forward before she attacked his mouth, her tongue forcing its way into his even as he fought to expel it. She worked her free hand into the front of his shirt, the laces already have been loosened, and caressed his chest, her fingers playing over his skin in a delicate dance of desire. d'Artagnan moaned despite himself as he felt her pull her hand out of his shirt and move it down further until it disappeared into his braies. He felt disgust when his body reacted to her touch and prayed for the attack to stop. His prayers were finally answered when the sound of the door opening and closing forced the woman to stop and pull herself from his lap. She straightened her skirt as she looked past the young man with disappointment.

"Well, Milady, this is most inappropriate, even for you," a voice said from behind the young man.

"Most people would knock before they entered a woman's parlor, Cardinal Richelieu," Milady answered with barely concealed anger.

"Most women would not attempt rape upon a helpless man when she knew she would be having guests," the cardinal snapped as he came around the bound young man and stared down at him. "It seems as though you have done my young friend some damage," he added as he glanced up at Milady with distaste.

"It was necessary…he would not come otherwise," Milady answered, her words clipped as she moved to allow the cardinal access to her prisoner.

Cardinal Richelieu waved the woman off and smiled down at the young man. "d'Artagnan, of the King's musketeers. I hear you have found yourself in some unfortunate circumstances," he said smugly, his eyes sparkling with barely restrained glee.

"You hear wrong," d'Artagnan said in reply, his gaze firmly on the cardinal's face.

"I hear that the Inseparables have cut you loose and that you are now free of their hold on you," the cardinal continued as if d'Artagnan had not spoken.

"Again, you are wrong."

"Am I? Would you have been without your pauldron and that hideous blue cloak if you were still a musketeer? I think not."

d'Artagnan kept silent as he watched the man pace before him, his hand twirling the beard on his chin. "I was quite impressed with you at the contest, even though you were responsible for my humiliation. I am willing to let all of that go and give you a place within my red guard. You will be welcomed there, not put out on the streets to fend for yourself."

d'Artagnan shook his head, not caring that the movement brought the dizziness back. "I would rather die than to betray my brothers by joining the red guard," he spat.

"Is it not your brothers who betrayed you?"

"They did not betray me! Milady knows not what she is talking about!"

"Milady knows much more than you give her credit for. Now, you will join the red guard or you will suffer the consequences of not joining. You really have no choice in the matter."

d'Artagnan looked up at the man and sneered. "Like I said, I would rather die," he hissed.

A backhand across his face made d'Artagnan cry out in alarm, his cheek split wide open by the cardinal's ring. Black dots danced in front of his eyes as his world tilted, the darkness coming once more to claim him, the young man fighting against it with all the strength he could muster. His eyes at half mast, he watched the cardinal turn toward Milady, a deep scowl on his face.

"You make him change his mind by any means necessary. If he still refuses, I will take him and let my best interrogator have a turn. You will not disappoint me." With one last look of disgust at the fading Gascon, the cardinal rushed out of the room, leaving d'Artagnan at Milady's mercy. The last thing d'Artagnan felt before the darkness took him again was Milady returning to her place on his lap. He slipped away as she once again attacked his throat with the ferocity of a hungry tiger.

**Oh man...things don't look good for d'Artagnan. I'll try to get another chapter done this week, but no promises. Please let me know how I'm doing :)**

**Cindy**


	4. Chapter 4

**I know, it's been too long since my last update. Since I write my stories during my breaks and spare time at work, I sometimes don't have time for several days, depending on my work load. The beginning of the month is my busiest time, but I had a lull in the action so I was able to work on this chapter yesterday and today. Yay! Just want to say thank you for sticking with me and for the comments I have received...you guys are the best! And now I'll let you get to the story :)**

**XXX**

**Chapter 4**

Milady attacked d'Artagnan's neck with fervor, her hands ripping at the shirt he wore, her breaths coming out in quick pants as desire raged through her. She wasn't sure exactly why she felt the way she did for this boy. Maybe it was because in a way he was forbidden, the protégé of her husband, that drove her desire. True, he was a handsome young man and the night they had spent together at the inn was most enjoyable, but she had spent many nights with many handsome men, what made this one so special? A wet behind the ears farm boy from Lupiac…how insane was she? But, she could not deny what she was feeling. She had never wanted another man like she wanted this one…not since Athos at least, though none could compare to how she had felt about him. It had to be because of Athos, she surmised since she hadn't truly given d'Artagnan much thought until she had found out that he had joined up with the musketeers and had been taken in by none other than the man who had tried to have her killed. The man she had once loved with all of her heart. It was this thought that forced her to stop her attack on the unconscious young man. She pulled herself from his lap and stepped back, looking down on the bound Gascon with a troubled frown.

"Not much fun with only one participating," Milady mumbled as she turned and went to the table that held the wine. She poured herself a glass and downed it in one gulp, hoping to calm her breathing and her nerves. She took several deep breaths then quickly left the parlor, returning a few minutes later with a basin of cold water. She dumped the water over the Gascon's head and smiled when he jerked awake, his dark eyes squinting as he tried to determine what was happening.

"Wh-wha'," the young man stammered, his lean frame beginning to shiver from the cold water that soaked his hair and what little clothing he had on.

Milady bent down and caught the Gascon's gaze. "We cannot have you sleeping, now can we? You have an offer to agree to and I have better things to do with my time than to watch you sleep," she said, a sneer on her lovely face.

"Was not sleeping…knocked out," d'Artagnan whispered, voice slurred from pain and exhaustion.

"Details," Milady murmured with a shrug of her shoulders. "So, you say yes to joining the red guard and the both of us can get on with our lives," she added nonchalantly.

"Never," d'Artagnan hissed as he lifted his head in defiance.

Milady sighed, though she expected the answer the young man gave. "We both know that in the end you will say yes, so why not save us the time and energy," she said.

"I will say this only one time more…I would rather die than join the red guard. My loyalty lies with the musketeers and only with them so…"

"But they abandoned you!" Milady barked as she began to pace the floor in front of her prisoner.

d'Artagnan's eyes conveyed all the pain he felt as he watched the woman pace. Try as he might, he could not hide his heartbreak. "They had their reasons, I suppose," he whispered brokenly.

Milady stopped and turned on the young man. "What reasons!?" she questioned, eyes flashing with anger. "Because you slept with me, not knowing who I was? That is a reason to abandon you? Throw you to the curb like a mangy dog? You did not even know Athos when we met. How can you still defend him? He does not care about you! He has never cared about you, and his friends will always take his side!"

"You think you know what is going on, but you do not. This has nothing to do with you," d'Artagnan spat, eyes wide with anger.

"I saw him," Milady said, eyes watching as the young man flinched.

"What do you mean?" the Gascon asked.

"Last night, when I gave you your gift…Athos was there. He saw us. He slipped into the shadows, but not before I caught sight of him. He watched the entire time, until I rode away. That is how I know why you were abandoned. He feels betrayed, though he should not. You did not betray him, d'Artagnan…he and his friends have betrayed you."

"No…"

"Join the red guard, d'Artagnan…give yourself over to Richelieu. That will be the ultimate pay back for what they have done."

"I will never betray my brothers!" d'Artagnan screamed, his face turning red with rage. "I may never again fight alongside them, but I will never fight against them. Richelieu wishes to destroy the musketeers. It does not matter what happened, I will never allow him to hurt them!"

"Like they hurt you?"

d'Artagnan swallowed against the emotion that flowed through him and glared up at the woman before him. "I will never betray my brothers, no matter what they have done."

Milady looked down at the boy and shook her head. "Richelieu will not be denied, d'Artagnan. If you do not join him, he will have you killed, but not before he has caused you much agony," she said, an almost caring tone to her voice.

"Better that than to turn my back on my friends," d'Artagnan said.

Milady threw her arms out in frustration as she stared at her prisoner. "Why do you insist on defending them? I do not understand this devotion you still have to them."

"I would not expect you to understand devotion," d'Artagnan answered coldly.

"Do not question…"

"Why does the cardinal want me? What could he possibly gain from me joining his guard?" d'Artagnan interrupted.

Milady drew back, angry at the interruption. She calmed herself, then shrugged. "I do not know, he tells me only what I need to be told and nothing more. I only know that when I mentioned your name after our first meeting at the inn, he acted like he had seen a ghost."

"What? Why would my name alarm him?" d'Artagnan asked with bewilderment.

"I do not know. It seemed as though…"

Before Milady could finish, the door to her parlor crashed open and four red guard stormed the room, going directly to the bound young man.

"What are you doing!?" Milady cried as she watched the guard roughly untie the Gascon's wrists and ankles and drag him up from the chair, the young man too weak from his treatment to be able to fight back.

"The cardinal sent us to retrieve the musketeer," one guard hissed as he yanked on d'Artagnan's arm, eliciting a short gasp from the young man.

"It has only been a few hours! He barely gave me time to…"

"The cardinal is a busy man. He does not have time to wait on the likes of you. You are relieved of your responsibility for this scum," the guard said. "His Eminence expects to see you at first light," he added with a sneer.

Milady could only watch, her hand moving to her throat, as the four men dragged the weakly struggling Gascon from the room. "Where are you taking him!?" she shouted as she rushed to the door.

"Where nobody can hear him scream," one of the guards called over his shoulder, the others breaking out in laughter as they disappeared out the front entrance to Milady's home, the door standing open to the cold night air.

"Damn it," Milady hissed. She pulled the door shut, then leaned against it, her fingers nervously playing with the ribbon around her throat. She couldn't explain the feelings that raged through her at seeing the young musketeer being dragged away, in all likelihood to his death. Why should she care? He meant nothing to her, right? He was a means to an end for her, nothing more. His death would ultimately destroy Athos, just as she desired. She knew that regardless of what had happened, Athos would never recover from the loss of d'Artagnan. She had been watching them for some time, had seen the way the boy had found his way into the hard man's heart. She should be happy, but she found that she was not. A knot had formed in the pit of her stomach and she realized that she did not want the boy to die. She still wanted her revenge, but not like this.

Milady went to the table and poured herself another glass of wine. She drank it down then poured herself another. She drank it as she paced the floor, her mind in a whirl on what she should do. Finally, she stopped at the table and set the glass down. She would go to the cardinal at first light, as had been requested. She would find out where they were holding d'Artagnan and then she would find a way to free him. After that she did not know what she would do with him. Both of their lives would be in danger at that point. They would have to run, find a place to disappear…possibly sail to England. The thought of leaving what she had built behind sickened her, but the thought of d'Artagnan's death sickened her more. What was happening to her? She had no answer to that question, but she could not deny her feelings. She may have to leave everything behind, but at least her main goal would be achieved…Athos would believe that d'Artagnan was forever lost to him and she had no doubt that it would destroy him despite what had occurred this night. She would have her revenge at last. Mind made up, Milady swept out of the room and immediately went to her bed chamber. She would need at least a few hours of sleep before her meeting with the cardinal. Her stomach knotted at the thought of what she was about to do, but she was a woman of conviction…when she set her mind to do something, she would not stop until she had achieved her goal. She went to sleep, sure in her mind that she would succeed.

**M**

Aramis and Porthos watched from their usual table as Athos walked toward them, a scowl on his drawn face. He sat heavily on the bench beside Porthos and heaved a heavy sigh.

"So, what did Treville say?" Aramis asked from across the table.

Athos looked up and shook his head. "We have three days to find him and if we do not, his commission will be withdrawn. As far as anyone knows, he is on a secret solo mission. We will have no help from the musketeers. We are on our own," he answered, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

Porthos stood up and squared his shoulders. "Just the way I like it. Shall we get to it then?" he said, the big man itching to start the search anew.

Aramis looked up and smiled. "Sit, Porthos. First we must eat, then we get to it," he said.

Porthos stood for a moment, his gaze moving to the gates of the garrison before he finally gave in and sat down. "I wonder if d'Artagnan has eaten," he mumbled as he reached for a chunk of bread.

"d'Artagnan could be holed up somewhere not wanting to be found for all we know, Porthos. In any case, we need to keep our strength up if we are going to find him," Athos offered with a sideways glance.

"Do you really believe that? I for one do not see him hiding away," Aramis said with a slight shake of his head.

Athos looked at his brother and smiled sadly. "No, I do not believe he has hidden himself away. I hope he has, but I do not believe he has. I think we would have found him by now, or he would have shown up by now, ready to plead his case once he figured I had sobered up and calmed down," he answered. "We must eat and then we must find him. I do not want this to take three days."

**M**

d'Artagnan groaned as he tried the bounds around his wrists for the hundredth time it seemed. He had been dragged from Milady's apartments and through darkened alleyways, his captors taunting him relentlessly, calling him every name imaginable. He had received numerous hits along the way, his ribs aching fiercely from the abuse, his right eye bruised and swollen. Finally, they had come to a far corner of the city and he was taken into a stone and wooden structure. The inside was meticulously decorated and cleaned, a complete contrast to the outside of the building. The Gascon had been roughly shoved onto a chair and was once again bound by his wrists and ankles, much to his despair. He had been left alone after that, but he was sure that the red guard were still near, watching for any sign of escape. The young musketeer dropped his chin to his chest and let out a quick breath. He jerked his head up when he heard the door open, the Gascon sighing when the cardinal came to stand before him. Two red guard stood behind and to either side of the cardinal. Both wore gleeful sneers on their faces.

The cardinal eyed him critically for several moments before tsking and shaking his head. "I see you have received some additional injuries since our last meeting. My guard tend to be a bit playful when escorting my guests," Richelieu said with a small smile.

"Guest?" d'Artagnan snorted. "This is how you treat your guests? Beat them and tie them to a chair?"

"Only if they are of the unreasonable type like yourself," the cardinal responded with a wave of his hand.

"Why am I here?" d'Artagnan queried calmly, his level voice masking his uneasiness.

"You are here to agree to my offer. Join my red guard and you shall be given all of the comforts that they enjoy," the cardinal said.

d'Artagnan looked up at the man with anger flashing in his dark eyes. He remained silent.

"Still being unreasonable I see. I really do not understand your stubbornness. I am offering you what the musketeers obviously have not."

"What you offer is something I will never accept so you may as well save your breath for breathing," d'Artagnan hissed.

The cardinal's face reddened with anger. He stepped forward and glared down at the defiant young man. "You will join me, you arrogant little prick, or you will die," he ground out through gritted teeth.

"My, my…such language for a man of the cloth," d'Artagnan said with a grin on his face.

The cardinal took a deep breath and took a step back from his prisoner. "Is what I offer so awful that you would rather die than accept it?"

"What you offer me is Hell. To take your offer would be to betray my brothers and I will not do that!" d'Artagnan spat.

"What is this hold these Inseparables have on you? Why such loyalty to men you have only known for mere months?"

"They are my brothers, that is all. There is no need for further explanation."

"You will find new brothers with the red guard…"

"The red guard would slit each other's throats in a heartbeat if they thought it would benefit them!" d'Artagnan scoffed, a smirk on his lips as he glanced at the angry faces of the guards who stood behind the cardinal. "The musketeers have honor and would die for each other without a second thought," he added with pride.

"And yet here you are, cast aside like a used rag," the cardinal quipped gleefully.

d'Artagnan glared up at the man, but said nothing. It was true what the cardinal said, he had been cast aside, but he still trusted his former friends more than he could ever trust the cardinal and his guard. He would die proclaiming their glory rather than live cursing their name.

"You have nothing to say?" the cardinal asked.

"There is nothing to say. I will not join you so you may as well set me free or kill me now," d'Artagnan replied.

The cardinal sneered down at the boy and shook his head. "I should not have to kill you since you should already be dead, but good help is hard to find these days. I suppose I will have to supervise more closely this time. You will die, young Gascon, but not before I get what I want from you," he hissed.

d'Artagnan tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean I should already be dead?" he asked.

The cardinal smiled, a sparkle in his eye as he stepped closer to his prisoner. "Ah, of course, you do not know," he exclaimed.

"I do not know what?"

"Well, your father was not the only one who was supposed to die on his way to Paris you see. You were meant to die alongside him, thus ending his family line," the cardinal responded with a smile.

"Wh-What?" d'Artagnan asked, the color draining from his face.

"I suppose it would not hurt to tell you since you will soon be dead," the cardinal said. "Your father had been a thorn in my side for many, many years. Long before I came to the palace. His coming to Paris was not something I could allow to happen and when I heard he would have his only remaining family with him, I knew the time had come to rid myself of this annoyance. Unfortunately, the task was not completed and you survived, only to join up with that rabble you call the musketeers."

"You had my father murdered? It was all your plan?" The Gascon could not keep the tears from welling in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Fury filled his heart as he glared up at the hateful man before him.

"It was all for the good of France. If he had succeeded in his plan to destroy me, it would only prove detrimental to our country and our king. Without me here to guide him, I cannot bear to think what would happen."

"He was coming to request some relief from the taxes…"

"So he told you. I do not believe for one minute that was his intent."

"You are insane. Why would he wish to destroy you?"

"Like I said, there was no love lost between your father and I. You do not need to know the specifics. That past is buried with your father where it will remain."

"You had better kill me, because if you do not, I will certainly kill you. It may take years, but I will kill you," d'Artagnan threatened, his voice filled with venom as he glared up at the smirking man.

"Take him to the cellar and prepare him for interrogation," the cardinal commanded as he turned to his men. "Once he is secured, call for Gregoire. The sun is starting to rise, I have a meeting in my offices. You can tell Gregoire he can start without me."

"Yes, your Eminence," the men responded as they stepped toward the now struggling d'Artagnan.

**XXX**

**So, yeah. I left it there. Yikes. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know :) Thanks for reading!**

**Cindy**


	5. Chapter 5

**First off, thank you once again to everyone reading my little story and to all of you who have taken the time to leave me comments. Your words mean so much to me! I have been a little bit distracted this week with everything that is going on in the Supernatural world with my wonderful Jared. So thankful that he is getting the rest and care that he needs. He is such a wonderful person and I am so honored to have had the chance to meet him. He is so very kind and gives so much to his fans. Anyway, I had wanted to get this chapter done and posted long before today, but my mind has just been too worried. I started this yesterday and continued today and just couldn't stop so it is a bit longer than my other chapters. It gets a bit dark at the end when we finally get back to d'Artagnan. The poor fella...why am I so cruel to the ones I love so much? So, I'll let you get to reading! Thanks again :)**

**Cindy**

**M**

**Chapter 5**

Milady impatiently paced the stone floor as she awaited Cardinal Richelieu's arrival, her mind going a mile a minute to find a reason as to why the cardinal should tell her where d'Artagnan had been taken. She was still stumped by the feelings of concern she felt for the young musketeer, but those feelings hadn't allowed her to rest for one moment. She'd tossed and turned in her bed, visions of the Gascon beaten and bloodied torturing her mind and finally forcing her to rise and dress. She ate a quick breakfast then had hurried to the cardinal's offices to find out what he wanted with her and to sweet talk d'Artagnan's location out of the man. She stopped her pacing when the door at the far end of the cavernous room opened and Richelieu walked through. He strode slowly to her, a smirk on his thin lips.

"Milady, how are you this fine morning? I didn't quite expect you this early," the cardinal said as he approached the dark haired woman.

"You sent your guard to take my prisoner and to tell me you wanted to see me, so here I am," Milady answered coolly.

"Ah, yes, I did request this early meeting," Richelieu said as he moved to his desk and leaned against the edge.

"Why did you take my prisoner and why did you request my presence?"

"I took your prisoner because you failed to get him to agree to my offer and I requested your presence so that I could tell you how disappointed I am with you at yet another failure," the cardinal responded.

Milady's eyes crackled with anger as she turned on the cardinal. "I did not fail! You did not give me enough time! I would have gotten him to take your offer if…"

The cardinal waved his hand, cutting off the woman's tirade as he pushed away from the desk and took a step forward. "From what I could see from earlier, your prisoner was not enjoying your methods, Milady."

Milady laughed lightly, though there was no humor in the laugh at all. "How would you know if he was enjoying it? You weren't sitting where I was," she quipped.

"No, I was not," the cardinal said. "I am fairly certain that unwanted advances such as yours would prove futile in gaining the young Gascon's affirmative response. My methods however should get me what I want in no time. In fact, Gregoire may already have what I want. He can be quite, how should I put it…persuasive?" he added with a wicked grin.

Milady's heart hammered in her chest at the revelation. The cardinal had brought in the brute, Gregoire. She shivered at the thought of what he would do to d'Artagnan. "d'Artagnan will not be swayed by beatings. He is quite stubborn. My way is the only way you will get him to agree to join the red guard," she said with a barely concealed tone of desperation in her voice.

"Oh, I have given up on the young musketeer joining the red guard. That is no longer my goal. I did not bring in Gregoire for that," Richelieu stated.

"What do you mean? If not to make him take your offer, then what?" Milady asked, her mouth suddenly dry from fear.

"Alexandre d'Artagnan was my enemy. A thorn in my side. The day he died was supposed to also be the end of his family name. I was to be free from ever having to hear that name again, but I did not count on the resourcefulness of Alexandre's son," the cardinal explained.

"So, you called for his father's death? And d'Artagnan was meant to die as well?"

"Yes. I could not allow that man, nor his son to live. My men failed so I had to find another way."

"Why did you want d'Artagnan to join the guard if you hate him so much?" Milady asked.

"Where else to keep ones enemy…an enemy who did not even know he was an enemy…but by my side?" the cardinal answered with a shrug. "I would use the young man to destroy the musketeers and once they were brought down to a level where the King would have no choice but to shun them, I would have d'Artagnan killed and dumped at their garrison gate, the final nail in the coffin."

Milady took a deep, calming breath, schooled her expression and faced the cardinal. "How would using d'Artagnan allow you to destroy the musketeers?" she asked.

"Quite simple, actually. He was taken in by the most elite of the musketeers…the Inseparables." The cardinal spat the name as if it were poison, then continued. "d'Artagnan would be privy to things that other musketeers outside of that group would not know. Athos is the right hand of Treville so he would have knowledge of a good deal of information. His brothers, Aramis, Porthos and now d'Artagnan would also be privy to this knowledge. If anyone knows of the inner workings, legal and otherwise, of the musketeers, it would be the Inseparables. d'Artagnan is the weak link, so to say. He is the greenest, the easiest to break. I have been trying to find a way to put my plan into play for some time now, so when you notified me of the apparent falling out of the young Gascon, I knew the time had come. I just did not count on him remaining so loyal to the Inseparables."

Milady shook her head as the cardinal finished. "Your plan will not work. d'Artagnan will not be broken by beatings," she said.

"And you think you can get the information I seek your way?" the cardinal hissed.

"I would have a better chance than you have," Milady responded. "Take me to where you have d'Artagnan and I will get you what you desire," she added, her tone almost pleading.

The cardinal studied the woman carefully as he unconsciously rolled his beard between his fingers. "You do not wish the Gascon to be harmed. You have feelings for him?" he asked curiously.

"Do not be ridiculous! I could not care less about that boy! I just know what will work and what will not. The boy is twenty at the most. He is stubborn and strong, but he is also heartbroken and vulnerable. He is in love and his love scorned him, pushed him away and now his brothers have done the same. I can offer him comfort. I can offer him a woman's touch and once he believes that he has found a home with me, I will be able to get any information you seek," Milady explained. She watched the cardinal carefully as he seemed to consider her words. Finally he faced her, her heart dropping when he shook his head.

"No. You had your chance with him and you failed. I do not want to wait for you to get the boy to trust you enough to give up his secrets. I will get the information I seek my way…"

"He will die before he gives you any information! Where will you be then?"

The cardinal watched the woman for a moment before he answered. "If he dies before he gives me the information, I will at least know that the d'Artagnan line has ended, which was my goal to start with. I can still dump his broken body at the gates of the garrison and let them see what their actions caused. The Inseparables will never forgive themselves, no matter their feelings for the boy right now. They will never be the same as what they are now. I win, no matter what."

Milady fought as hard as she could to remain calm as she listened to the cardinal's words. As much as she wanted Athos to suffer, she could not allow it to happen with d'Artagnan's death. She had to find out where d'Artagnan was being held so she could then figure out a way to free him. She curled her lips into a cold grin and stepped toward the cardinal, her fingers coming up softly caress the front of his robe. "Well, at least take me to where you are holding him. If I cannot undo him my way, I can at least see him suffer," she said with a cool voice.

"No. I will let you know when he is dead. I may even let you see his body before I have him dumped at the garrison. You are excused," the cardinal said, the man watching with a sneer as Milady dipped her head then walked from the room. He remained beside his desk for several minutes before he too left his office. He did not want to miss the moment when the young musketeer broke, for he had no doubt that he would. Not one person had ever held out against Gregoire's interrogations and the cardinal was certain that the Gascon would be no different. He left through a side entrance and stepped up into a waiting carriage, completely unaware of the hooded figure sitting atop a gray mare watching him from a distance. The carriage pulled away, the morning mist swallowing it up as it headed to the outskirts of the city. The cloaked figure gave the gray mare a short kick and the horse began to move. Blue eyes squinted through the mist keeping the outline of the carriage in view while a smile curled the bright red lips. If the cardinal thought that he could dismiss her so easily then he was sadly mistaken, the rider thought as she too was swallowed up by the mist.

**M**

Milady watched from the cover of a decaying building as the plain carriage the cardinal rode in pulled alongside a stone and wooden structure. She narrowed her eyes as she counted at least three red guard stationed around the building. One guard opened the carriage door and held it while Richelieu stepped down onto the ground. The cardinal looked warily around then gave a quick nod before he moved toward the building and disappeared inside. The carriage was moved behind the structure where it was out of sight, though the early hour and the remote location left little chance that anyone would notice anything. Most of the buildings out this way looked as if they hadn't been inhabited for some time. Milady silently led her horse around the building that hid her and eased through overrun alleyways until she was behind the building. Much to her dismay, three more men stood guard there, giving her no chance of attempting a rescue. Cursing to herself she turned her horse to leave when the sound of a pained scream met her ears. The scream was faint, but undeniably d'Artagnan's. Her eyes darted from one end of the structure to the other, when they finally landed on a narrow passage dug into the earth with a set of rickety steps just visible from where she hid. "They must have him in the cellar," she whispered to herself, her heart racing in her chest.

Milady sat for a few moments, unsure of what she should do. There was no chance of her getting inside and rescuing the boy, of this she was certain. The building was heavily guarded, leaving Milady frustrated with her options. After several minutes she came to only one solution and the thought of it filled her with dread. Knowing there was no other way, she guided her horse back to the street and made her way to the heart of Paris.

**M**

By the time Milady reached the main part of Paris, the city had come alive. People were bustling about, rushing from here to there. Merchants displayed their wares, carts filled with loaves of bread, fish and produce lining the streets of the marketplace. Milady huffed with irritation as she navigated through the crowds. When her destination came into sight she dismounted her horse and walked up to the guard who stood at the garrison gate.

"I am looking for the musketeer, Athos, fetch him for me at once," she commanded as she stood, her hood still pulled up over her head.

"Athos left before dawn with Porthos and Aramis. I do not know when they will return," the musketeer guard stated.

"Do you know where they have gone?" Milady asked.

"No, I do not, and if I did I would not divulge that to you."

Milady narrowed her eyes as she glared at the man before her. With a huff she turned, pulled herself up into the saddle and rode away. She cursed silently as she began her search of the city. She would not rest until she found those she sought. She feared that time was quickly running out for d'Artagnan. From all that she had heard of Gregoire, he would be lucky to last the day, and even if they were able to rescue him, he may never be the same as he was before.

**M**

It was near midnight when Athos, Porthos and Aramis dragged themselves up the stairs to Athos' apartment, all three men bone weary, their hearts shattered at the thought that they may likely never see d'Artagnan again. They had spent the day searching, talking to anyone they thought would have any chance of an idea of what had happened to the young man. Nobody had seen anything. Porthos had even gone to Flea, but even she knew nothing of d'Artagnan's possible whereabouts. She promised to put feelers out, but held little hope. Their young friend was well and truly gone and they had all but lost hope of ever finding him. They had talked of the chance of him leaving for Lupiac, but with his horse and his things still at the garrison, that thought had quickly been quelled. He would not leave his horse behind, that they were sure of.

The three collapsed into chairs as they entered the apartment, each meeting the other's gazes. No words were spoken…what could they say? They had driven d'Artagnan away, possibly into the arms of a murderess who could very well by now know that he knew her identity. If that were the case, there was little chance that she would let the young Gascon live. He may already be dead for all they knew. They would not voice that possibility however. Not yet at least. Athos was just about to pour himself a glass of wine when the door to the room swung open and the very woman whom they had been thinking of sauntered in, her head held high as she met his shocked gaze.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" Athos bellowed as he jumped to his feet, his hands fisted at his sides. "What have you done with d'Artagnan!?"

Porthos and Aramis were on their feet in a flash, their eyes moving to the woman who could only be Milady de Winter.

"Oh, Athos, always the accusing type, no?" Milady answered, her voice like a purr. "I have done nothing with d'Artagnan. I might ask you all what you have done to him though. When I found him last night…"

"Wait…you found him? Where did you find him? Where is he?" Porthos hissed as he stepped toward Milady, who turned her ice cold glare at him and smiled.

"I found him sleeping in an alleyway, freezing out in the cold when he should have been with you! I took him home, but he is not there now," Milady answered.

"Where…is…he?" Athos growled.

"He was so shocked, so overcome with grief that his brothers could abandon him so. The pain in his eyes…the exquisite agony of his broken heart. It was all I could do not to ravage the poor boy," Milady purred. She barely had a moment to gloat before she found herself manhandled against the wall, a sharp cry torn from her lips at the treatment.

"If you laid one finger on him, I'll kill you," Athos hissed, his face mere inches from the smirking woman's.

"Been there, done that," Milady snapped as she pushed against the fuming musketeer's hold. "I laid more than a finger on him, but he was having none of that. He refused my advances…can you believe that? Him refusing me? Anyway, we were doing just fine until the red guard showed up and dragged him away."

"What!? Why would the red guard want d'Artagnan?" Aramis cried.

"If your brute of a leader will unhand me, I will explain. Time is of the utmost importance," Milady said, her blue eyes turning to catch Athos' gaze. Athos let go with a growl and stepped back, allowing the woman to compose herself.

"What has become of d'Artagnan? Why does the red guard have him?" Athos queried urgently.

"Cardinal Richelieu has been quite interested in d'Artagnan. When he heard that I had him, he came to make the boy an offer, to which the stubborn boy refused. He left, but sent his guards there a few hours later. They took d'Artagnan away and would not tell me where they were taking him. I managed to follow Richelieu to where I believe he is having d'Artagnan held," Milady explained.

Porthos stepped forward, murderous intent in his eyes as he glared at the small woman. "So tell us this…how did Richelieu hear that d'Artagnan was with you?"

"We are wasting time with these questions. I…"

"Answer the question! How did Richelieu know?" Athos hissed.

Milady shook her head and sighed. "Because I sent him word that d'Artagnan was with me."

"Why?" Aramis asked.

"Because, he employed me to get d'Artagnan away from you so that he could bring him to his side, so to speak," Milady answered.

"Why would he want the boy?" Porthos queried.

"Look, I can answer all of these questions…later. Right now we need to get to d'Artagnan! Every minute we spend talking, he is suffering!"

"What? What do you mean?" Athos asked, his voice shaky with sudden fear.

"d'Artagnan is very stubborn. He refused the cardinal's offer. He told Richelieu that he would never betray the musketeers. That did not sit well with Richelieu and his plans. As we stand here and talk, d'Artagnan is being tortured by the brute they call Gregoire. Richelieu plans to get any information he can from the boy so he can destroy the musketeers…plus he has a personal hatred of the boy's family. d'Artagnan will not survive the night!"

The three musketeers bristled at those words. "Why have you come to us? Is this not what you wanted? To destroy me? You must know that d'Artagnan's death would do just that," Athos said as he pushed the woman ahead of him and out the door, the other two musketeers hot on their heels.

"Yes, well, apparently the boy's death is something that I cannot bear to see happen. I want you to suffer, but not at his expense," Milady answered softly as she descended the stairs to the street below.

"We must get our horses as quickly as we can!" Porthos cried as they rushed out into the street.

Milady turned to the men and tilted her head. "I will meet you at the garrison gates. Once you are ready, I will lead you to d'Artagnan," she said as she turned to hurry away. Athos' hand on her arm brought her to an abrupt stop.

"I will go with you. I will not have you disappearing on us, leaving us floundering as you enjoy our pain," he said, his blue eyes daring her to refuse.

Milady pulled her arm free and glared at her husband. "Whatever…I have no intention of leaving you floundering, but you may come with me. My horse is big enough to carry us both," she said.

Athos turned to his brothers and gave a quick nod of his head. "Be quick my brothers…our youngest needs us and we will not fail him again," he said before turning and rushing after Milady. Porthos and Aramis took off toward the garrison, their legs carrying them as fast as they could. In less than half an hour the small party was barreling through the darkened streets of Paris with one thought on the three musketeers minds…bring their brother home.

**M**

d'Artagnan groaned as his tormentor, a monster of a man with long, dark stringy hair and cold gray eyes, dug a short dagger into the suspended musketeer's shoulder. The Gascon weakly cried out as the man twisted the dagger with a gleeful grin. "This will all end, whelp, when you tell me what I want to know," the man, Gregoire, hissed into the sagging boy's ear.

"Never," d'Artagnan whispered in response, his dark eyes rising to meet the cold gray ones defiantly.

Gregoire moved back and viciously ripped the dagger from d'Artagnan's shoulder, eliciting another pained cry from the boy. "You are a stubborn one, I will give you that. In fact, I am rather glad that you are so stubborn. I am thoroughly enjoying our time together. I do not usually get to spend this much time with my guests," he said as he smiled down at the barely conscious Gascon.

"Y-you are w-wasting your t-time. I w-will tell y-you nothing," d'Artagnan said, voice so weak it could barely be heard. The large man's grin widened, indicating that he did in fact hear.

"Aw, more fun to be had then," the man said as moved to a table where several instruments of torture lay. He put the bloodied dagger down and picked up another wicked looking device. He turned it in his hand, his eyes dancing gleefully in anticipation before he turned to look over at a corner of the room.

In a chair some 10 feet away sat Cardinal Richelieu. He wore a bored look on his face, the man becoming tired after several hours of the same thing. Gregoire handing out agony filled tortures while demanding answers to the cardinal's questions, and the young musketeer refusing to give those answers, no matter what was done to him. Richelieu had found himself almost impressed with the young man's restraint, but that was not enough to erase the anger that was building in him. He had not expected to be here in this dank, smelly cellar for so long. In fact, he had expected to have already delivered his horrible "package" to the musketeers by now. He had expected to have the information he sought so that he could begin the destruction of the musketeers for good. He had neither of these things, and his anger was turning to muted rage at every "never" d'Artagnan muttered. Finally, he came out of his thoughts and regarded his favored interrogator. The man grinned as he held the device up for Richelieu to see. Richelieu nodded as he stood and looked at the bloodied and beaten prisoner. "I grow bored of these proceedings. One hour…if he has not spoken up by then, slit his throat and deliver him to the musketeer garrison. Do whatever is necessary to make him talk," Richelieu commanded before abruptly turning and ascending the steps up to the room above.

Once the door to the cellar had closed behind the cardinal, Gregoire turned to his captive and smiled. d'Artagnan raised his head from where he allowed his chin to fall to his chest and looked at the man and the device he held with dread. He groaned when the large man spoke. "I took your fingernails…and oh how I enjoyed your screams. How about now I go to your toes?"

d'Artagnan swallowed against the bile that threatened to escape as he remembered the torture. "Do as you must…I will never betray my friends," he breathed out.

Gregoire watched the young man and shook his head. He could not understand why this boy would allow himself to be tortured so…all for the sake of the musketeer scum. The boy was so young…where did this resolve come from? He had been handsome before Gregoire had gotten his hands on him. Now, his face was so bruised and bloodied that he did not even resemble the man Gregoire had first seen. His lips were split in several places, eyes both black and blue and nearly swollen shut. His nose was most definitely broken and blood flowed sluggishly from the numerous cuts that riddled his face. His bare back and chest were just as damaged. The torturer had use knives and whips to try and gain the information the cardinal sought, but nothing had worked. Even as each fingernail was ripped from the Gascon's fingers, he still stubbornly refused to talk. Deep, dark bruises mottled the skin at his lower back where Gregoire had lost his temper at one point and had used d'Artagnan's kidneys as punching bags.

Gregoire moved toward the young man, the horrible device in one hand while the other hand lifted to gently cup the Gascon's cheek. "Just tell me what I want to know and I will end this right now. There is no need for you to suffer further. You have proven yourself loyal to your musketeer friends," the large man said with what could almost be akin to pity.

d'Artagnan jerked his face away from the man's touch and dropped his head. "Never," he whispered for the hundredth time. He gasped as his head was suddenly jerked up, a large hand twisted in his sweat soaked hair. Gregoire's eyes were filled with rage as he glared at the young man. "You know, I could take your tongue with this device…rip it from your mouth and watch you choke on your own blood! Tell me what I want to know!" he bellowed, d'Artagnan groaning as he yanked harder on his hair. d'Artagnan mustered a weak grin before suddenly spatting bloody spit into the surprised torturer's face. The man jerked away as if punched and reached his hand up to wipe the mess from his face. He curled his lip as he glared at the young man's grinning face. Without warning he brought the instrument up and crashed it against the side of d'Artagnan's head. The boy saw stars and his world tilted. His vision darkened as he suddenly felt hands upon him. His heart filled with dread as he felt his braies ripped down his legs and heard the next words Gregoire hissed.

"Maybe I have been going about this all wrong." d'Artagnan groaned out a terrified "no" as Gregoire moved behind him, his rough hands reaching around the boy's waist and pulling him backward. "Maybe I need to consider a different route," the man continued as d'Artagnan began to lose his battle with consciousness. He barely heard as the sound of a door crashing in tore through the cellar. He let the darkness take him just as an agonized voice screamed his name. He was completely gone when the fighting began.

**Okay, let me have it! How could I do that to d'Artagnan? How could I leave it there? I'm sorry, I truly am, but then again...no I'm not! Drop me a line, let me know how I'm doing and I will get the next chapter up just as soon as I can. Loves!**

**Cindy**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello all :) As always, thank you all for your comments. I enjoy reading them and I'm blown away by the support I have received for this story. You all rock! I hope you enjoy this next chapter, where our Inseparables are finally reunited with their cherished Gascon. Ah, the feels! So, let me hold you up no longer...Read on!**

**Cindy**

**Chapter 6**

They rode hard through the streets, the four riders silent as they raced to the edge of the city, the woman in the lead. The three musketeers followed closely behind, their eyes glued to the street ahead, sheer determination showing on their faces, contrasting deeply with the fear and guilt they each felt in their hearts. Occasionally, Athos would glance at his wife's back and memories would flow through his mind…good and bad. He didn't trust the woman, fearing that she could be leading them into a trap, but if she could lead them to d'Artagnan, then he would deal with the rest when the time came. In the meantime, he would keep a close eye on her. If it was a trap, he would not hesitate to run her through. For the moment however, his only concern was finding their young brother and bringing him home. He had much to make amends for and Athos swore that he would do everything in his power to do just that, if he was given the opportunity. He prayed to a god he wasn't sure he still believed in that they would find d'Artagnan and that he would not only be alive, but also forgiving. He knew he didn't deserve the boy's forgiveness, but he craved it none the less. Athos was brought out of his thoughts when Milady held up a slim hand and slowed her pace.

"What is it?" Athos queried as he came even with his wife.

"We are getting close, and someone is coming," Milady answered, her blue eyes squinting through the darkness. "Come, we must hide. If it is who I think it is, we certainly do not want him to see us," she added as she moved her horse to the cover of an alleyway. The three Inseparables moved warily to the alleyway, all ready for any unexpected assault. It seemed they all held Athos' suspicion of a trap. They all sat silently, their hands on their weapons as they listened to the sound of an approaching carriage. When it passed slowly by and they saw who was inside, the three men thankful for the faint light provided by the half moon, they looked at each other with anger in their eyes.

"Richelieu," Porthos hissed, his lip curled in disgust.

"This cannot be good," Aramis added as he glanced at his two friends.

"Come…we must hurry!" Milady called from in front of them. "I feel that d'Artagnan is running out of time. The cardinal would not leave unless he has either gotten what he wants or has finally grown tired of the boy's stubbornness. In either case he will have ordered his death!"

The three men exchanged glances then kicked their horses into gear. "Then we must ride with great haste!" Athos cried as he led the way out of the alleyway. Milady took the lead and soon they were coming to a halt once again, just out of sight and ear shot of the guards standing sentry at the old building.

"This is where they are holding d'Artagnan?" Porthos asked as he eyed each of the three guards who stood leaning against the side of the building.

"Yes," Milady answered. She quietly dismounted her horse and looked behind her to make sure the others were following suit.

"How many guards are there?" Aramis asked as he pulled his sword from its sheath.

"Three in front and three in back. I do not know if there are more inside. I heard d'Artagnan's cries from the cellar. There is an entrance in the back and I am sure there is one inside as well since Richelieu went through the front door when I followed him earlier," Milady responded.

"What do you mean you heard d'Artagnan's cries?" Athos asked, his voice filled with concern.

"What? Do you think they are having a party down there?" Milady asked incredulously. "They call Gregoire an interrogator, but he is nothing more than a sadistic torturer. He will do anything to get his prisoners to talk."

"Dear God," Aramis whispered, his dark eyes shimmering at the revelation.

"There are no cries now," Porthos added, his heart filled with dread as he cast his gaze to his two friends.

"We must hurry! Porthos, Aramis…you take the back! I will take out the three in the front," Athos commanded as he began to move forward. The two musketeers nodded and silently slipped away, keeping to the cover of the shadows cast by the moonlight.

"And what about me?" Milady queried coolly once Porthos and Aramis were out of sight.

"You will stay back here. We…"

"I will not stay back! I am the one who brought you here! I care about the boy as much as you do!" Milady cried.

Athos grabbed the woman's arm and pulled her to him. "You care only about yourself. I am not sure why you are helping d'Artagnan…if you truly are, but…"

"What do you mean if I truly am? I brought you here, did I not?"

"Yes, you did…and it could very well be a trap. We do not know for sure that d'Artagnan is even in there!"

"This is not a trap! You are wasting time that d'Artagnan does not have! You will not keep me from this fight!"

Athos eyed his wife warily then finally nodded. "Very well, but know this…I will not further endanger d'Artagnan to save you if you wind up in trouble. You will be on your own," he said.

"Do not worry, I am used to being on my own," Milady hissed, her cold eyes glaring at her estranged husband.

"Be quick…and silent. We do not wish to draw attention from anyone who may be inside," Athos instructed as he silently made his way to d'Artagnan's prison.

The fight to gain entrance to the small structure was short lived, the red guard poorly prepared for the skill of the Inseparables. Within minutes, six guards lay dead or dying and Athos and Milady stood before the front door, preparing for another fight as Athos quietly pushed the door open. Porthos and Aramis joined he and Milady at the front of the building, their efforts to enter the cellar through the back entrance thwarted when they found that it was chained shut. They entered silently, Athos in the lead, followed by Milady, then Porthos, with Aramis bringing up the rear. They were surprised to find no other guard inside except for one who stood sentry at the top of the stairs leading down to the cellar. The poor man barely had time to register the four figures before his cry of alarm was cut off when Milady's dagger buried itself into his throat.

"Nice throw," Porthos breathed out, his dark eyes wide as he looked from the dead man to the woman beside him. Milady merely shrugged in reply as she moved forward and pulled her dagger from the guard's neck.

"Be silent…we do not know how many guard may be in the cellar," Athos commanded as he moved toward the head of the stairs. Suddenly, the sound of a deep, rage filled voice, followed by a very weak, barely audible "no" carried up from the cellar and any sense of stealth was gone as the three musketeers tore down the stairs, Milady on their heels. Athos threw himself with desperation against the door as he reached the bottom and nearly fell when it immediately gave way. The scene that met he and his brothers was one that filled them with horror. A giant of a man stood behind a barely conscious and very naked d'Artagnan, his large hands splayed over the Gascon's stomach as he held the young man to his torso. d'Artagnan's braies lay pooled around his ankles and it didn't take a genius to figure out what the large man's intentions were.

"d'Artagnan!" Athos screamed as terror filled his heart. He raced forward, his eyes filled with hatred as he turned his attention to the monster who was now rushing toward he and his comrades. "Aramis! Get to d'Artagnan! Porthos and I will take care of this!" Athos hollered just as the giant man collided with him, sending him crashing into the wall behind him.

Aramis spared a quick glance toward his friends before he rushed across the cellar to where d'Artagnan hung suspended by his arms from a beam that ran the length of the cellar ceiling, fully trusting the other two to take care of the threat so he could help their brother. His eyes filled with tears as he saw the condition the Gascon was in. Fresh blood trailed from a wound at the boy's hairline, just above his left ear, down to his chin where it steadily dripped down to the dirt floor below. Aramis cast his eyes over the young man, the sound of the fight raging across the room dulled by his worry for his friend and brother. He sensed someone behind him and swung around, his fist held ready, only to see the shocked face of Milady de Winter, her blue eyes wide as she stared at the unconscious Gascon. She knelt down, her hands reaching for the braies that were pooled at d'Artagnan's feet, but was stopped when Aramis grabbed her arm and pushed her back.

"Do not touch him," Aramis hissed before turning his attention back to his friend. He reached down and pulled the braies up the Gascon's slim frame, securing the laces at his hips, his eyes once again filled with unshed tears. If they had been even a few minutes later, things could have been much, much worse he thought as he once again began his assessment of d'Artagnan's condition. The boy's body was littered with cuts and bruises. Dried and fresh blood ran down his arms from where shackles held his wrists, the tender flesh cut and swollen where the sharp edges of the shackles had dug in. Aramis shook his head, aware that he would need both Porthos and Athos to help get the young man down. He was just about to move behind the boy when without warning, a large body rammed into him and send him flying across the room. He hit the wall, the air knocked from his lungs, and slid to the floor in a daze. He looked up with blurry eyes to find find that the monster, Gregoire, had once again moved behind d'Artagnan. Athos and Porthos staggered into Aramis' line of vision, their eyes wide as Gregoire tangled his hand in d'Artagnan's hair and yanked his head back, revealing his vulnerable throat and eliciting a soft groan from the slowly awakening young man. Gregoire produced a knife and held it threateningly to d'Artagnan's throat.

"Stay back, musketeer scum or the whelp dies," Gregoire hissed, the edge of the knife pressing against d'Artagnan's throat, drawing a thin line of blood.

"Get your hands off of him," Porthos threatened, his voice more of a growl, his eyes filled with rage.

The monster laughed as he yanked d'Artagnan's head back further, pulling a cry from the young man's throat. d'Artagnan's eyes fluttered open, but appeared to see nothing as they stared dully ahead into the dim lit room. "The boy is dead, no matter what you do. I will slit his throat the second you move," the large man threatened.

"And you will die the next second," Athos said, his eyes narrowed as he stared the big man down.

Milady watched in horror as the man pressed the knife even harder to the Gascon's throat. She wrapped her slim fingers around her dagger, ready to let it fly if she was given a good shot. Behind her, Aramis slowly pushed himself to his feet. He watched the man who held d'Artagnan, sure that he had been forgotten, or dismissed as not a threat. He prayed that he was correct as he carefully pulled his wheellock pistol from his belt, the gun already readied with ammunition. He glanced quickly at his friends as they parried threats against Gregoire, then turned his attention back to the large man. He dared not look at d'Artagnan's face lest the blank look in the young man's eyes lessen his resolve. He patiently waited for a chance and when Gregoire moved, ever so slightly, Aramis quickly raised the pistol and fired. The three musketeers lunged forward as the large man, eyes wide with pain and surprise staggered back, the knife he'd held dropping uselessly to the floor. They reached d'Artagnan as the large man looked down at the quickly blossoming bloodstain in his gut. They paid no mind as he fell to his knees and didn't even notice as he fell the rest of the way to the floor, blood gurgling from his lips as his life slowly drained from him.

The three Inseparables attention was fully focused on their brother, their eyes taking in each cut and bruise, their hands gently ghosting over his body as they carefully stood him up to relieve the weight on his wrists. "I'll hold him up…you two find a way to get him down," Porthos said as he carefully wrapped his arms around d'Artagnan and held him to his chest, the young man's head dropping to rest on the bigger man's shoulder. He whispered words nobody could hear as Aramis and Athos searched for the keys to unlock the shackles, Athos finally finding them stuffed in the dying Gregoire's pocket. He hurriedly reached up and unlocked first one, then the other shackle. Aramis carefully removed the shackle from his right wrist as Athos took care of the left. They gently lowered his arms, both noting the soft groan as the movement caused pain for their young friend. Porthos took the bulk of d'Artagnan's weight once the shackles were removed, the Gascon having zero strength to hold himself up. He swept the nearly unconscious young man up into his arms and turned toward the door. Milady moved up beside him, her hand reaching toward the Gascon's face. Her hand was slapped away, her eyes darting to meet those of her husband.

"Do not touch him!" Athos threatened, his lip curled into a sneer.

"I led you here! I helped save him," Milady hissed in response.

"You are the reason he is here in the first place! You took him when he was vulnerable and then you let Richelieu know that you had him!" Athos growled as he pushed himself between Milady and d'Artagnan.

"I was doing what I was hired to do! I did not know that he would do this!"

"I do not want to hear your pathetic excuses!"

"Stop it, you two. We need to get d'Artagnan out of here. I cannot access his injuries until we have him somewhere safe!" Aramis snapped, his dark eyes flashing with anger as they moved from Athos to Milady and back.

Athos dropped his eyes in shame. "Aramis is right. We need to get d'Artagnan someplace safe and warm…"

"You can bring him to my apartments. I have all that you need to take care of him," Milady offered.

"I think not. It will be best to take him to the garrison. We have the infirmary there, and all the protection we will need in case the cardinal decides to come after the lad," Aramis said as the group started to move toward the door, d'Artagnan held safely in Porthos' arms.

"Richelieu would not dare try to take him from you. He will want to distance himself from this entire thing," Milady said as she hurried behind the three men and their precious cargo.

Athos looked over his shoulder and nodded. "Still, we cannot take a chance. Richelieu knows where you reside and since you know where my apartments are, I cannot trust that you have not relayed that information to the cardinal as well. The garrison is the safest place to take him," he said before turning back around and following his brothers up the stairs.

The musketeers and Milady stepped out into the cool night air and all drew in deep breaths as they looked around for any hidden dangers. Once they were sure that all was safe, they hurried to where they had left their horses. Athos quickly mounted his horse then reached his arms down as Porthos carefully lifted d'Artagnan to him. The young man groaned as he was settled against Athos' chest, his head cradled beneath the older man's chin, one of Athos' arms wrapped securely, yet gently around his torso. Aramis and Porthos were soon in their saddles and looking to Athos to lead the way. The man gave them a quick nod then looked down into the upturned face of his wife.

"I owe you my thanks for leading us to d'Artagnan. Now, I ask that you leave and never show your face to me again," he said.

"Where is it that you think I could go? The cardinal will know that it was me who led you to the boy. My life is now in danger because I helped you."

"Do not blame your predicament on me. You are to blame for all that befalls you. If you fear the cardinal, then leave Paris and never return," Athos hissed.

"But d'Artagnan…I must know…"

"You will never lay another finger on him! You have done enough damage to him. If you try to come near him again, I will kill you," Athos warned. He lifted his gaze from the woman then nodded at his friends. He looked down at the young man and frowned as the young man had begun to shiver. Before he even had the chance to ask, Porthos eased his horse up alongside him and draped his jacket over d'Artagnan's body. He grinned when Athos gave him a thankful nod. Together the Inseparables turned their horses toward the heart of Paris, Aramis and Porthos on either side of Athos and their youngest brother. They left Milady standing in the street, her cool blue eyes following them as the disappeared from sight. Athos spared one last glance over his shoulder then turned to each of his brothers.

"Let us take our brother home," he softly drawled as he gently tugged the young man tighter to his chest.

**Aww, they're taking him home where he belongs. We'll have to see if he remains there once he has recovered. Thanks for reading!**

**Cindy**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello all. I have the next chapter ready for you. My busy time at work starts up again (first two weeks of each month) so I really wanted to get this one done before the work flood happens and I don't have a lot of time for writing. It may be a bit before the next chapter is ready. It all depends on how the work flows in. I hope this will tide you over until then. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews!**

**Chapter 7**

The sun was just starting to rise above the horizon when the exhausted band of brothers made their way through the gates of the musketeer garrison. The going had been slow due to d'Artagnan's injuries and the men had stopped several times to calm the now delirious Gascon down. In his mind, it seemed, he was still in that cellar and it broke the Inseparables a little bit inside each time he would cry out for the pain to stop, or for his brothers to forgive him and allow him to come home. They said nothing to each other during these times, each man lost in his own feelings of guilt. They spoke softly to d'Artagnan, assuring him that there was nothing to forgive and that he was already home, but each time it was exhaustion that would drag the young man back into oblivion and allow the men to proceed on with their journey home. In all it had taken nearly three hours to navigate the early morning streets so when the garrison finally came into view the three men each heaved huge sighs of relief.

There were musketeers just starting to fill the garrison yard when the three men and their youngest brother rode through the gates. The musketeers all eyed them with surprise and worry when their eyes fell upon the unconscious form of their newest member. They had all been told that d'Artagnan was on a simple mission so the sight of him so gravely injured shocked them all. They stared as the Inseparables made their way into the yard and stopped before the stables. Several musketeers rushed forward to aid the men in getting d'Artagnan down from Athos' horse, but Porthos and Aramis politely pushed them back, not allowing anyone other than themselves to touch the broken boy. The commotion in the yard drew Treville from his office and when he laid eyes on d'Artagnan his stomach knotted. The boy looked terrible, all bruises and blood, his face so swollen he was barely recognizable. Treville called out for a doctor to be summoned before he descended the steps and hurried to where his favored musketeers had stopped.

"What has happened to him?" Treville asked as he reached the men.

"Not here," Athos whispered, his eyes locked on the boy now held in Porthos' arms.

"Get him to the infirmary. The doctor will be here soon," Treville said with a nod of his head. "You men, get some water on to boil! And you two, bring clean linens and rags! You, Francoise, go to Serge and have him bring food for these men to the infirmary," he commanded as he pointed to several musketeers.

The garrison became a frenzy of activity as men were dispatched to help with anything that needed to be done, while others prepared for their various missions and duties. Porthos carried d'Artagnan up the stairs toward the infirmary, followed closely by Athos, Aramis and Treville. Once they entered the infirmary, Aramis instructed Porthos to place d'Artagnan on the large table, which Porthos did with uncharacteristic gentleness. While they waited for the linens, rags and water to be brought, Athos explained to Treville all that they knew.

"So, Richelieu is responsible for this? Are you sure?" Treville asked once Athos was finished.

Athos nodded, his eyes never leaving the form of his wounded brother. "We saw him leaving the area where d'Artagnan was being held. Anne…Milady de Winter, told us of his interest in the lad. He meant for d'Artagnan to die," he said in reply, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

"But why? What kind of interest does he have with the lad? Is he so angered that d'Artagnan beat Labarge and embarrassed him in front of the King?" Treville asked, his voice laced with confusion.

Athos shook his head as he turned to his Captain. "That may be part of it, but I think his interest began before that, if Milady is to be trusted. She said that he had a hatred of the boy's family, but did not go into details. From what I gathered, his plan was to destroy the musketeers by using d'Artagnan, and then kill him to finish it all," he spat venomously.

Treville wished to further the discussion, but it was then that several musketeers rushed into the room with the linens, rags and water. A few moments later, the doctor arrived and once a bed was prepared for when d'Artagnan had been patched up, the room was emptied except for Treville, the doctor and the Inseparables. Treville, Athos and Porthos stood back while Aramis and the doctor, LeMieux by his introduction, began their triage of the boy's injuries. The list was long…cuts, bruises, broken cheekbone and nose, cracked ribs. When they got to d'Artagnan's fingernails and the fact that they had been ripped from his nail beds, it took all of Athos' and Treville's strength to keep Porthos from charging from the room, intent on hunting the cardinal down and making him pay for what he had done to their pup. Finally, they had calmed him enough to be able to unhand him, but his eyes were still murderous as he stared at d'Artagnan's hands. They watched as Aramis and LeMieux carefully turned d'Artagnan on his side so they could check his back and rushed forward when Aramis sucked in a startled breath.

"What is it?" Athos queried shakily, the man not liking the look on the medic's face.

"It is not good," Aramis responded in a voice filled with dread.

"Tell us," Porthos said softly. "Please, Aramis, we must know."

Aramis met his friend's eyes then glanced at the doctor. LeMieux straightened and took in the men and their urgent stares. "The cuts and bruises and broken bones, though painful and worrisome due to possible infection can be managed, but…but those are the least of our worries now," he stated carefully.

"Explain please," Treville commanded, the calm between the two storms brewing on either side of him.

The doctor took a calming breath before responding. "There is deep bruising on his lower back. It appears as though he was repeatedly punched, or beaten with some sort of hard object. In either case, it is quite possible that there is damage to one or both of his kidneys which, depending on the severity of the damage, could result in his death," he explained wearily.

There was silence for several moments while the men took in this news. It was Athos' shattered voice that finally broke the silence. "So, he was beaten so badly that his kidneys are most likely damaged and he could die? So, you are saying that I could very well be responsible for my brother's death?"

The doctor cocked his head as he met the musketeer's eyes. "Are you the one who beat him? Why would you be responsible?" he asked.

"No, I am not the one who beat him, but I may as well be. I am the one who put him out on the street where he could be taken and tortured…alone and thinking that he had lost the only family he could still claim. If he dies, it is because of me," Athos hissed as he turned away, unable to continue to look upon the damage that he had caused his brother to endure.

"Athos, this is not your fault…" Aramis started, his words cut off when an enraged Athos spun around, fury in his eyes.

"Then tell me, if not my fault, then whose?! I sent him away! I accused him of betraying me…of betraying all of us when it was I who betrayed him! I…I accused him of killing his own father! How can this not be my fault!?" he bellowed, self hatred blazing in his eyes.

Porthos stepped forward and placed his hand on Athos' shoulder. "Athos, we all are at fault for what happened that night, but my friend, we are not at fault for this," he said softly.

"I put him on the street. If it were not for that, he never would have been taken and tortured. Why do you not see that?"

"Because I know the man you are, Athos. You are a good man and you did not mean the things you said to the lad. You were hurt and drunk and…"

"I was a monster! How could I say those things to him? How could I have hurt him so? My little brother…I have killed my little brother…"

Aramis came from around the table to stand before his grieving friend. "Athos, if you are going to fault yourself for what has happened, I cannot stop you, but if the blame lies with you, then it also lies with Porthos and I as well. We did not intervene. We took your side and we pushed him away…"

"No, it is I alone who did this…"

"We are brothers…all of us. All for one and one for all. We are in this together and we will not allow you to take this burden on alone."

Athos looked up into his friend's eyes blinked back tears. "What if he dies? What will we do? It is as if he has always been here, like, I cannot remember what it was like before he came to us and now I cannot imagine my life without him in it," he cried.

"Nor can I, Athos," Porthos said as he squeezed his friend's shoulder.

"Nor I," Aramis added, his hand coming to rest on Athos' other shoulder.

Athos looked to each of his brothers and sadly smiled. "He cannot die," he whispered.

"And he shall not," Aramis said. "I will not allow him to."

"I know you will not," Athos responded.

The three men stood there for a moment, united in their shared grief while the other two men could only watch and wait. It was the sudden groan coming from the object of everyone's worries that brought them out of their reverie. They rushed to d'Artagnan's side, Dr. LeMieux immediately turning his attention back to his patient. With Aramis' help, he got the boy situated on his back once more then looked up at the expectant eyes of the musketeers.

"I need to clean these wounds and stitch the worst of them. It will take some time so I would suggest you all get some food and then rest. I will…"

"We will rest when d'Artagnan is settled," Athos stated, his eyes resting on the boy's face.

The doctor sighed and glanced at each man. "At least eat. You will need your strength if you are intent on staying with the lad," he said.

"Serge will be here soon with food and drink. I will assist you with d'Artagnan's injuries while we wait," Aramis offered with a tired smile.

As if on cue the door to the room opened and Serge, along with another musketeer, carried two trays of food to another table in the room. They set the trays, laden with bread, cheese and cured meat down. Serge made a quiet comment to his helper then turned to the men as the musketeer hurried from the room. His eyes fell upon the wounded d'Artagnan and he sighed sadly. "How is the pup?" he asked gruffly, though his eyes held only kindness for the unconscious boy.

Aramis glanced over and shook his head slightly. "He has been tortured and is gravely injured, but he is strong. He will recover, that I am sure of," he explained.

"Yes, he is a strong lad. I have no doubt that you three will pull him through. If anyone can, it is you," Serge said with a tip of his head. "Henri is bringing drink for all of you. Sit and eat. It looks as if you will need your strength," he added, his gaze turning toward the door when Henri entered with two pitchers, one with wine and the other with water, along with drinking glasses for all of them.

Serge nodded as the pitchers and glasses were placed on the table, then hurried Henri and himself out of the room. Treville watched them go then turned to the Inseparables. "Go…eat," he instructed, his look leaving no room for argument from the men, save for Aramis.

"I must assist the doctor with d'Artagnan's wounds. I will eat once that is done," Aramis stated as he turned his attention back to his young friend.

Treville looked questioningly at the doctor, who nodded his agreement that he was indeed in need of assistance. Treville sighed as he gave in. "Fine, help the doctor then you eat," he said. "You all need to rest as well. I do not care if it is in your own rooms or here, but you will rest. d'Artagnan will need you all at your best when he awakens," he added.

Athos looked at the boy then at his captain. "I highly doubt that d'Artagnan will want to see me when he awakens. I will leave once that happens, but until then, I will remain in this room," he said.

Porthos looked at his friend and sighed. "Athos, d'Artagnan will need you…he will need all of us, but he will need you the most. You cannot leave 'im just 'cause you feel guilty," he explained.

"My presence will just cause him pain. I will be near, but I cannot be here when he awakens," Athos replied, his eyes sad as he glanced once again at the Gascon.

"I believe that you are mistaken, Athos. Your absence is what will cause d'Artagnan pain," Aramis spoke up from where he stood helping LeMieux clean the blood and dirt from the boy's body.

Athos shook his head as he looked at his friend. "You saw his face, his eyes. My words and actions cut him deeply. He wished for me to kill him! He said his life was forfeit. I did that to him! I pushed him to feel that way!" he cried.

"He said 'is life was forfeit if he were forced to give us up. If he lost the family that we 'ad become. If you leave, he will believe that he 'as lost you," Porthos reasoned, his dark eyes pleading with his friend to hear him.

Athos dropped his eyes and sighed. "The damage is too great. He will have you and Aramis, but it is best if he does not see me…at least not right away. Maybe eventually he will be able to forgive what I have done to him, but why should he?"

"Athos…"

"No, Aramis. When he begins to awaken, I shall leave. You and Porthos will remain with him. You will let him know that he still has his brothers…"

"But not all of 'em, right?" Porthos interrupted.

"This is for the best, Porthos. At least for now."

"You are a damned stubborn fool, Athos! He needs you!"

"He needs you and Aramis and I am sure that you will be forgiven."

"Yes, he does need us," Aramis said. "But he needs you more…surely you see that!"

Athos brushed his hand through his hair and closed his eyes. "I cannot bring him more pain when he is recovering. Eventually, I pray, he will once again see me as he did before, but for now it is best that he not see me. I will not have his recovery impeded by my presence," he said.

Porthos threw his hands up in frustration and stalked to the table that held the food and drink. He cursed under his breath as he slapped food on a plate. He sloshed wine on the table as he poured it then hurried to a corner of the room, dropped to the floor and began to eat. He eyed Athos with flashing dark eyes, but did not say another word. Treville, who had stayed silent through the entire exchange, shook his head and blew out a deep breath.

"I will not tell you what to do, Athos, for only you can decide what you think is best, but I will tell you this…stay near. If d'Artagnan asks for you, you will come to him, do you understand?" he said gruffly, his gaze stern.

"Yes, I understand," Athos answered.

"Good. Now, get something to eat then report to my office. We have a few things to discuss," Treville commanded before turning and leaving the room.

Athos watched as Treville left then walked to the table of food. He silently filled his plate with some bread and cheese and a glass with wine then looked over at where Porthos was sat on the floor. A narrowing of the large man's eyes told him that he should find a different place to sit so he moved to the bed that had been prepared for d'Artagnan and sat. Aramis looked from one friend to the other, shook his head then turned his attention back to cleaning d'Artagnan's wounds. The doctor was intently working at stitching one deep cut, purposely keeping himself busy to avoid the tension in the room. d'Artagnan moaned lightly as the needle pierced his skin, but he thankfully remained unconscious. Porthos and Athos avoided each other's gazes and silently ate their meals. When Athos was done, he set his empty plate and glass on the floor at his feet. He rose and walked to the table where Aramis and LeMieux still worked. He looked down at the beaten form of his brother and sighed. He reached out a shaky hand and lightly brushed sweat soaked bangs away from d'Artagnan's bruised and swollen face. After a few moments, and fully aware of a two sets of eyes upon him, he turned and left the room and headed for Treville's office.

When Athos returned an hour later, fuming and ready to tear someone apart, d'Artagnan was laid out in the bed, the bedsheet pulled up over his torso. A bandage was wrapped around the boy's head and more covered his chest and disappeared beneath the sheet. Athos' eyes traveled down and he had to swallow back the sudden lump in his throat when he saw each bandaged finger. He glanced at Aramis, who was seated beside the bed in a chair, his chin resting on his chest as he lightly slumbered. Porthos was at the end of the bed, his back leant up against the frame. He was fast asleep. The doctor was nowhere in the room. Athos tamped down the anger that filled him and crossed the room. He quietly pulled a chair to the side of the bed opposite Aramis and sat down. His mind went back to the talk he'd had with Treville and his stomach twisted in knots. How was he to tell his friends that the man who had ordered their brother be tortured, who had caused him an unfathomable amount of pain, would never be punished for his crime?

**So, yeah, that all happened. At least in my musketeer world. Hopefully d'Artagnan will be awake, at least a little bit, in the next chapter. We'll see if Athos changes his mind about being there when that happens...stubborn musketeer that he is. Thank you for reading!**

**Cindy**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi all. I have a short chapter for you. Work has been crazy, plus I have been working extra hours at my second job so I have had little time to write. I did have some time open up today so I jumped right on this so I could finish it up. I am off work the rest of the week and I really wanted to get this done before my days off. I hope you enjoy. **

**Cindy**

**Chapter 8**

"What do you mean Richelieu will not be punished for what he 'as done?!" Porthos hissed, his dark eyes sparking with rage as he faced his friend.

The three men stood in a far corner of the room so as not to waken their friend. Athos had filled the other two in as soon as they had woken from their slumber. Now, he faced two very red faced, angry men. He, of course, shared their anger at the situation, but there was nothing he, nor anyone, could do. He let out a shaky breath as he ran his hand over his face.

"There is no evidence that ties Richelieu to d'Artagnan's torture. Only our eyewitness accounts…and those were just in seeing him near the location where we found the boy," Athos explained.

Aramis shook his head as he glanced over at his patient. "Athos is right. We killed all of the red guard and the interrogator. There is nobody to turn on the cardinal. In fact, nobody will even know that anything occurred since Treville sent a group of musketeers to clear out the bodies."

"Even if there were, the cardinal has the King's ear and trust. Louis would never believe that he would do something like this. We would only look vindictive and petty," Athos added.

"Well, we could always take care of 'im ourselves," Porthos offered through clenched teeth.

"We cannot do anything, Porthos! He is untouchable," Athos countered.

"This is not right. He should not be able to get away with this," the big man grumbled.

"No, he should not, but unfortunately, he will. The only weapon we have is d'Artagnan," Athos said.

"What do you mean?" Aramis asked.

"The cardinal wanted d'Artagnan dead, for whatever reason. He also wanted information to destroy the musketeers. Once d'Artagnan recovers and Richelieu sees him once again donning the blue cloak, he will know that he has lost. That will have to be enough for us," Athos explained.

Porthos looked at his friend then turned his eyes to the boy sleeping in the bed beyond. "Do you think he gave Richelieu the information he wanted?" he asked, his hand coming up to nervously scratch the back of his head.

Athos turned and followed Porthos' gaze and shook his head. "No, he did not. He would have died before he gave Richelieu anything," he replied.

"Even after what we did?" The big man looked on the verge of a breakdown, the guilt shining brightly in his eyes. His posture seemed to bear the weight of his guilt, his shoulders hunched and head hung low. Shame colored his cheeks pink as his gaze remained on d'Artagnan.

"Even then. We may have hurt the lad, but he would never have said anything that could have brought harm to the musketeers…that I am sure of. Besides, if he had talked, he would have been dead by the time we reached him. I am certain that Gregoire would have been ordered to kill him immediately upon gaining the information Richelieu desired. The fact that he lives is proof of not only his strength, but his honor and loyalty as well…even after being so grievously wronged by me." Athos walked the distance between where his brothers stood and the bed and stiffly sat down. He gazed down at his protégé and sighed. He reached out to touch the young man's arm, but pulled his hand away and rested it on his knee. When Aramis and Porthos joined him, he stood and stepped back from the bed.

"He will be waking soon," he said softly. "I will take my leave and go to my room…"

"Athos…"

"No, Aramis. I cannot be here when he wakes. I cannot be the first person he sees."

"He needs you to be the first person he sees, Athos," Porthos insisted, his large hand grasping the older musketeer's arm.

Athos looked between his two friends and then dropped his eyes. "You will call for me if I am needed. Tell him…tell him that I am sorry," he whispered. He pulled his arm from Porthos' grasp and turned for the door.

"You are the only one who can tell him that. He will only believe it if it comes from your lips. Please, Athos," Aramis beseeched, his dark eyes pleading as Athos turned and met his gaze.

Athos shook his head then turned and left without another word. Aramis and Porthos looked at each other, their hearts filled with anguish. "He will come around," Aramis murmured as he took the chair that Athos had vacated.

"I 'ope so," Porthos said with one last look at the door. He made his way to the chair near the table and tiredly sat. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, meaning to just rest them for a few moments. He was awakened some time later by the sound of Aramis' voice. He peeled open his eyes and glanced over to the bed. Aramis was leant over d'Artagnan, coaxing the young man awake. Porthos was on his feet and next to the bed in seconds.

"That is good, d'Artagnan…open your eyes." Aramis had the Gascon's hand in his, his dark eyes watching intently as his brother finally pulled himself awake with a low moan.

"Uhn…" d'Artagnan groaned as he forced his eyes to open, what little light there was in the room causing pain to spear through his head. He tried to reach his hand up to his head, but found that he could not move it. When he looked down and saw who had his hand, he gasped in surprise.

"'mis?" he croaked, his voice hoarse both screaming and disuse.

"Yes, my brother, it is I," Aramis responded with a relieved smile. He squeezed the Gascon's hand as he studied his eyes, looking for and finding evidence of a concussion. "How are you feeling?" he added, already knowing how much pain the young man had to be in.

"'urts," d'Artagnan responded.

"Where does it hurt?" Porthos asked as he moved closer to Aramis so as to be easier for d'Artagnan to see him. He was rewarded when pain filled eyes lifted and met his.

"'vrywhere," was the answer Porthos received.

"Yes, I would imagine so," Porthos said with a slight smile. "You gave us quite a scare, you know."

"Wh-where…what…" d'Artagnan started, but was cut off when the irritation in his throat brought on a coughing fit. Porthos hurried around the bed and carefully lifted the young man, ever careful of his many wounds, and held him as he coughed. When the coughing fit had finally passed, a cup of cool water was gently pressed to his lips. He drank greedily, whining softly when the cup was pulled away.

"Drink slowly, d'Artagnan so you can keep it all down," Aramis instructed. When the young man nodded, Aramis placed the cup at his lips again and smiled when his instructions were followed. Once the young man had his fill, he pulled away and smiled appreciatively at the medic.

"Thanks," he whispered as he was gently lowered back onto his pillow.

"Of course," Aramis replied. Silence fell over the room for several long moments, until finally the patient spoke.

"Why are you here?" d'Artagnan's eyes swept over the room even as he asked his question, then let his gaze settle on Aramis. Aramis could see the tears that the young man was holding back and he knew exactly what those tears meant.

"Where else would we be?" Aramis answered with a kind smile.

When d'Artagnan didn't respond, Porthos sat on the edge of the bed and took the young man's hand in his. "We are so sorry, d'Artagnan. You should 'ave never been treated that way," he said shamefully.

d'Artagnan nodded, but his eyes still held mistrust. He glanced slowly around again then lowered his eyes. "Athos?" he whispered, his voice laced with sadness.

Aramis and Porthos shared a glance before the medic spoke. "He is in his room sleeping. He has been up for a very long time and needed to rest. He would not go until he knew you were okay," Aramis said.

d'Artagnan glanced suspiciously at the medic then lowered his eyes again. "He does not care if I am okay. He…"

"He does care, lad," Porthos interrupted. "He would not rest until we found you."

d'Artagnan looked over at the large man and sighed. "Please do not make excuses for him. I saw the hatred in his eyes. I know what he thinks of me," he whispered.

"No, you do not know," Aramis said. "He was fraught with worry and despair when we found that you were missing. He lead the search and would not stop…"

"They why is he not here?"

"Like I said, he is resting," Aramis responded softly, his heart breaking at the pain he saw in his brother's eyes.

"He would be sleeping here, just like he always does when one of us is injured. Just like we all do. He does not wish to see me does he?" d'Artagnan softly said.

"That is not how it is," Aramis argued.

d'Artagnan sighed and slowly tried to push himself up. Two sets of hands reached for him and gently pushed him back. He looked up at the two men and huffed. "I need to…um…I…" he stammered lightly.

The two elder musketeers shared a glance then suddenly Porthos' mouth fell open. "Oh!" he cried. "Why did you not ask? We are here to help," he added.

"I can do it myself," d'Artagnan said through gritted teeth as he once again tried to push himself up from the bed. He allowed the two men to help him as he slowly swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He cried out as pain shot through his lower back when he tried to stand, the grips on his arms tightening as his legs threatened to buckle.

"What is it, d'Artagnan? What is wrong?" Aramis cried out in alarm as he held the young man tight.

"M-my back…hurts," d'Artagnan gasped.

"Oh, yes. It seems a lot of attention was paid to your back when you were being held," Aramis hissed angrily. "Let us get you back into bed," he said.

"No…I have to go. I…"

Without a word, Porthos made sure Aramis had a good hold on the boy then rushed to grab the chamber pot. He brought it to the bed and set it on the floor. When d'Artagnan flushed with embarrassment, Porthos gave him a warm smile. "Do not worry, lad. We 'ave done this before," he said.

With a glance at the large man, d'Artagnan finally nodded. With a little help, the young man did his business as quickly as he could. He glanced down and let out a small, surprised cry. When the other two men looked down, their hearts sank. The contents of the chamber pot were tinted red and it didn't take a doctor to know what that meant. Aramis whispered to d'Artagnan that it was okay and not to worry as he and Porthos helped the young man back to bed. Once they had the young man tucked in, both men could tell what the simple act had cost their brother. His face was flushed and a thin layer of sweat covered his brow. His eyes became heavy, yet he fought against the pull of sleep. "Rest, d'Artagnan. We will be here when you awaken," Aramis said softly.

D'Artagnan glanced up and shook his head. "You do not need to stay with me. Go to Athos…you belong with him, not with me," he whispered brokenly.

"d'Artagnan…we are exactly where we belong. Athos will be here as well, once he is rested," Aramis said, his stomach in knots at the despair he could see in his young friend's eyes.

d'Artagnan lowered his eyes and turned away, but not before Aramis saw that they were once again filled with tears. "I am tired," d'Artagnan whispered. "I wish to sleep now. Stay or go, I cannot stop you from doing either, but please do not lie to me about Athos. He has made his feelings clear and I do not blame him or hold ill will toward him." With that, the young man closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, leaving two very shocked and heartbroken men to watch over him. When they were sure he was sound asleep they moved to the table both took up glasses of wine.

"This is not good, Aramis. He thinks Athos 'ates 'im," Porthos said through clenched teeth. "And what of the chamber pot? That is blood, is it not?" he added with worry in his voice.

Aramis sighed as he raked his hand through his hair. "Yes, it is blood," he said, voice deep with concern. "He most assuredly has damage to one or both kidneys."

"So what can you do?"

Aramis shook his head as he glanced at his friend. "There is nothing anyone can do, Porthos. It either heals or it does not," he answered.

"And if it does not?"

"Then he dies," the medic replied before he swiftly made his way back to his patient. Porthos watched with a heavy heart as Aramis sat down and took d'Artagnan's hand. He bowed his head and Porthos listened as he began to pray. He solemnly walked to the bed and sank to the floor next to Aramis' chair. He dropped his chin to his chest and began his own silent prayers, not just for d'Artagnan, but for he and his other brothers as well, for he knew that if they lost their pup, it would be the end of them all.

**Awww, :'( Poor d'Artagnan thinking exactly what they knew he would if Athos wasn't there when he woke up. Athos can be pretty dense sometimes. Hopefully he will smarten up and realize that d'Artagnan needs him. So, I will work on the next chapter as much as I can. The crazy time at work is starting to wind down for the month so hopefully can get it done and posted next week. Thank you all for reading!**

**Cindy**


	9. Chapter 9

**Happy Friday, all! I finally got some time to work on the next chapter...phew, what a week! Anyway, it isn't very long, but it says what I wanted to say and I wanted to get it posted today because I won't be back in the office until next Wednesday and I didn't want you to have to wait that long. I want to once again thank all of you for reading and a special thank you to those who take the time to comment. It means a lot to me :) So, without any further babbling, I'll let you get on with the story!**

**Chapter 9**

"He is out there again," Aramis stated as he looked out of the window of the infirmary down to the garrison yard below. He could just make out the form of his friend and brother pacing beside the table they all shared. "He looks tired from what little I can see."

"We all look tired. 'e should be 'ere 'elping us tend to d'Artagnan," Porthos snapped as he wiped a cool cloth over d'Artagnan's neck and face.

Aramis sighed as he turned from the window and glanced at his friends. Porthos didn't look tired, he looked down right exhausted. Neither he nor Aramis had gotten much sleep, virtually none after d'Artagnan had begun to spike a fever. Aramis brushed his hand through his hair then slowly walked to the bed. He reached down and placed his hand on the Gascon's face, the medic frowning at the heat he felt there. "Damn, his fever is rising...way too high," he whispered wearily.

"Why does 'e have the fever? His wounds are not infected," Porthos wondered aloud as he glanced up at his friend.

"It is his kidneys. He most likely has a tear in one of them," Aramis answered.

"So not just bruised? What can we do?" Porthos asked as he went back to bathing the unconscious man with the cool cloth.

"I can only feed him the concoction I have brewed for him whenever he awakens enough," Aramis replied. "Trouble is, he remains unconscious longer and longer each time he falls under. He needs to fight, but I fear he is not," he added.

"He has given up. He does not wish to remain with us," Porthos whispered, his voice tinged with anger and deep sadness.

"You heard him that night, Porthos. He said that his life is forfeit if he cannot be with us," Aramis softly said.

"But 'e 'as us."

Aramis shook his head and moved to the opposite side of the bed where another chair sat. He sat down heavily and took d'Artagnan's hand in his. "As long as Athos stays away, d'Artagnan will not believe that he has us. He is injured and ill and in his pain and fever addled mind, he will always see us as we were that night. He needs Athos here so that he can start believing that there is a reason to fight."

"So, you are saying that without Athos, d'Artagnan will die?"

"That is exactly what I am saying. He needs to know that Athos does not hate him. He is not fighting because he does not think there is anything to fight for."

"Then we need to get that stubborn ass up here now!" Porthos hissed.

"I have tried, Porthos. You have tried. He refuses to believe that d'Artagnan needs him."

Porthos met Aramis' gaze and sighed. He made a move to stand, the large man intent on dragging Athos from the yard and up to the room, but then d'Artagnan cried out and his full attention was turned to the young man.

"N-no…'thos, pls…'m sry," d'Artagnan keened as his head rolled weakly from side to side. His eyes were open now, though they stared ahead at something the two musketeers could not see. Tears spilled down his red, fevered cheeks as he pled to a man who was not there to forgive him. The two men could only watch helplessly, their own tears marking trails on their faces, as d'Artagnan's distress grew. They held him firmly yet gently as he began to weakly buck on the bed, his cries resonating through the room and crushing the men who cared for him so deeply.

"Shh, shh…d'Artagnan, we are here," Aramis whispered softly, all the while praying that his brother would hear him, but it seemed that d'Artagnan was trapped in the past, begging his brothers to not cast him away.

"'e cannot 'ear us…'e is not even 'ere," Porthos cried, his dark eyes frantically searching his little brother's eyes for any sign of recognition. "Please, d'Artagnan…'ear us! We are 'ere, you cannot leave us!"

Aramis looked up at his friend, his eyes glistening as more tears filled them. "We need Athos. I fear that d'Artagnan will not last the day," he said urgently, his gaze returning to the young man when he once again began to speak.

"'thos…pls…did not know," d'Artagnan's broken voice cried as he finally collapsed back onto his bed, the young man's body trembling as he continued to mumble words that further broke his brother's hearts.

Aramis cupped the Gascon's cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears as they fell, his heart hammering in his chest. He could sense that his brother's condition was worsening and he felt helpless to stop it. He knew with all of his soul that the only thing that could bring d'Artagnan back was the presence of their eldest, but he feared that it may already be too late.

"'thos…I…does not want me…father is waiting…"

Aramis' eyes widened with terror at those words. He grasped d'Artagnan's face and turned it to meet his. "No! d'Artagnan…do not go with your father! We are here! Porthos and I are here! Please…hear me! Fight! Fight to stay with us!" he cried frantically. Across from him, Porthos could only watch, the large man paralyzed with the fear that he may be witnessing his brother's last breaths. He grasped d'Artagnan's hand with both of his and squeezed it tight, all the while praying for his Lord to not take his brother away.

Aramis continued to plead with the young man, but d'Artagnan was calling out to his father now and the medic could take no more. "No," he whispered brokenly as he dropped his head onto d'Artagnan's chest and began to weep for the brother he would soon lose. After several moments, d'Artagnan went silent and Aramis feared the worst. He lifted his head and looked up at his young friend, only to be met with two dark, pain filled eyes staring right at him.

"d'Artagnan," Aramis whispered, a small smile curling his lips. Porthos watched as the young man smiled weakly in return.

"'mis," d'Artagnan breathed out, the word barely audible, but still the most beautiful thing the medic had ever heard.

"I am here, pup…Porthos as well," Aramis responded as he gazed into eyes that recognized him.

d'Artagnan rolled his head and looked up at the large man. "P'thos," he whispered.

"Aye, d'Artagnan, it is I," Porthos said as he squeezed the young man's hand more tightly.

d'Artagnan sighed as he stared up into his brother's eyes. His breaths were now pants as the fever raged through him, but for the first time in several hours, he was somewhat coherent. He swallowed thickly and Aramis rushed to bring a cup of cool water to his lips, nodding thankfully as Porthos gently lifted the young man up enough to drink. After a few sips, d'Artagnan sagged against Porthos' hand and the big man eased him back down.

"Father is calling for me. I must go," d'Artagnan whispered, his eyes now staring off at the far wall.

The two musketeers looked at each other with renewed fear before returning their gazes to their young friend. "No, d'Artagnan. You must stay with us. Please, stay with us," Aramis pleaded as he gently turned the young man's face toward him.

"'thos does not want me…"

"'e does want you," Porthos cried pleadingly. "We all do, d'Artagnan."

d'Artagnan closed his eyes and licked his cracked lips. "He is not here," he said softly, his voice tinged with deep sadness.

"He is here! He is right outside!" Aramis cried.

"Not here…not with me," d'Artagnan responded, tears leaking out through closed lids.

"d'Artagnan…"

"Father is calling…"

"No! Do not listen! Athos will be here soon!" Aramis cried as he lurched to his feet, then headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Porthos called.

"To drag Athos' sorry ass up here!" Aramis growled as he yanked the door open. "You keep him here, Porthos! Do not let him answer his father's call!" Without waiting for Porthos to answer, Aramis threw himself out onto the landing, his eyes searching for his elder friend. His heart sank when he didn't see him, but he was determined to find the man and make him face their youngest. d'Artagnan's life depended on his success.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Aramis searched the garrison from top to bottom, even checking in with Captain Treville, who he quickly filled in on what was happening. Treville had risen from his desk, intent on going to check on Porthos and d'Artagnan, but not before telling Aramis that Athos had left the garrison barely fifteen minutes prior to their meeting. Aramis had run from the captain's office and into the streets of Paris and now found himself on a path to Athos' apartments, where he hoped to find the man brooding and drinking wine. When he reached the building that held his friend's apartments, he rushed through the outside door, ran up the steps and burst through the door to Athos' room. He let out a sigh of relief when he spotted the man sitting exactly where he hoped to find him, a goblet of wine in hand.

"Athos!" Aramis cried. "You must come now!"

Athos looked up from his wine and eyed his friend, his face devoid of any emotion. "Why? What is there for me to see?" he drawled before dropping his eyes to stare at the goblet still held in his hand.

"d'Artagnan needs you, brother," Aramis answered urgently.

Athos looked up again and shook his head. "He needs you and Porthos. He does not need me. I am poison to him," he said, the last words coming out in a hiss.

"Athos…"

"Leave, Aramis. Go take care of the lad. He will be better off without me…"

"He is dying, Athos! He will not survive the morning!" Aramis screamed, all of his fear and anger coming out in that one outburst.

Athos jumped to his feet, his blue eyes now wide and filled with fear. "What!?" he cried as he stepped toward his friend.

Aramis shook his head and met his friend's gaze. "He refuses to fight. He has given up, Athos. He calls for you and you are not there. He thinks that you hate him and for that reason, he intends to answer his father's call," he explained, his voice filled with sadness.

"But he was doing well when I left. He…"

"It is his kidneys, Athos. They were damaged. At first I hoped they were only bruised, but then the fever hit and it continues to rise so it can only mean that he has a tear," Aramis said.

"But you are doing all that you can, right?"

"There is nothing I can do for that, Athos. He has to fight it in order for his body to heal and he is not doing that. He has lost hope that you still care for him."

Athos shook his head as he stepped closer. "But he has you and Porthos..and Treville…"

"It is not enough. We are not enough. He has us, but he _needs_ you. If you cannot drop the stubborn act, he will die…if he has not done so already."

Athos lifted his hand to his mouth and let out a soft sob. "It is that dire?" he finally asked as he stared pleadingly at his brother.

"It is," Aramis answered. "You must go to him, Athos. It is the only way to save him."

Athos closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, he opened them and Aramis saw something that had been missing, but was desperately needed. He saw determination, where before there was only guilt and despair. His heart leapt as Athos reached for his hat and rushed toward him.

"Come, Aramis. Our brother needs us…not just me, but all of us! I am so sorry for not listening to you and seeing it. How could I have been so stupid?" Athos cried as he hurried past Aramis and out the door.

Aramis hurried after his brother and soon they were racing through the streets of Paris, each lost in his own thoughts, but both praying they were not too late.

**Oi, but that Athos can be a dense man sometimes! At least now he has come around...hopefully in time! So please let me know what you think. I really look forward to reading your comments! Take care!**

**Cindy**


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm back! It has been such a hectic, busy week...omigosh! After I work at my second job tomorrow (which I don't normally work on Saturdays) I will have put in almost 80 hours between both jobs this week. I really wanted to get the next chapter up because next week promises to be the same. So, once again I will thank all of you who are still reading this story, and a big hug to those who send me comments. Thank you all so very much. Now, on with the story!**

**Chapter 10**

Porthos turned back to d'Artagnan the second the door slammed behind Aramis and swallowed back a sob. His eyes moved to the hand he held in his, taking in the bandages that covered the damage done to his fingertips. His grip on the Gascon's hand eased a bit when he realized that he could be causing his brother pain. When he once again looked at the young man's face, however, it was apparent that d'Artagnan wasn't really there so may not be feeling the pain from his many injuries. He continued to call to his father, his voice so weak that it was barely audible, but there was no mistaking who the young man was seeing. Porthos was at a loss as to what he should do. He knew he should be bathing his brother with the cool cloth, but was loathe to break the connection he had with him by letting his hand go. Finally, he reluctantly eased the hand to the bed and went for the bowl of cool water. He was back beside the boy in seconds, his deep voice rumbling as he spoke while he ran the cloth over d'Artagnan's face and neck. After several minutes, he rewet the cloth and draped it over the Gascon's neck. He once again took up the bandaged hand, ever careful to not cause any pain, then leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to the white wrapped fingers. He chuckled to himself when he thought about what his other brothers would say if they caught him in this tender moment. He didn't care, however, if they did. This young man before him brought out parts of his personality that he normally kept tucked deep down inside and he would never be ashamed or embarrassed of the way he acted toward their Gascon. So lost in his thoughts was he that he didn't even realize it when d'Artagnan stopped calling for his father and turned his fever dulled eyes upon him.

"P'thos," a weak voice called, causing the big man to whip his head around until he found himself staring down into his little brother's eyes.

"d'Artagnan? What is it, brother? What do you need?" Porthos asked softly, his lips curling up into a fond smile.

d'Artagnan stayed silent for several moments, his breaths coming in soft pants, as he seemed to be working up enough energy to speak. When he finally did, Porthos was sure his heart skipped several beats.

"Y' need…let me go," the Gascon whispered, dark eyes staring up at his brother, beseeching him to grant his request.

"No! You cannot ask that of me, whelp!" Porthos cried as he squeezed his brother's hand a little too tightly, pulling a soft cry of pain from the young man. Porthos immediately eased his grip as he whispered apologies for causing the Gascon more pain.

"Father needs me…pl's P'thos…let me go."

"We need you, d'Artagnan! You cannot leave us! What would we do without you?"

"'thos sent me away…"

"'e was upset, and drunk. 'e did not mean the things 'e said, d'Artagnan. 'e regretted it the minute you ran out the door," Porthos said, his dark eyes pleading with his young friend to believe him.

"'m sorry, P'thos…did not know who she was. 'thos hates me…"

"No, brother, 'e loves you, just as Aramis loves you…just as I love you," Porthos said, a tear slipping from his eye and dripping down to soak into the bandaged hand that Porthos held. "You are our brother and our comrade…"

"Not a musketeer anymore…"

"I will decide who is or is not a musketeer," a new voice called from behind Porthos and the big man swore under his breath at himself for not noticing that someone had entered the room.

"Captain, 'ow long 'ave you been standing there?" Porthos asked without turning around.

Captain Treville swiftly walked to the end of the bed and glanced down at the big man. "Long enough," he answered before turning his attention to his newest musketeer. When the young man didn't look at him he moved to Porthos' side and knelt down beside the bed. "d'Artagnan," he said to draw the young man's attention. Slowly, dark eyes turned and met his.

"Captain," d'Artagnan whispered. "Father calls…"

"Your father will have to wait. I have not accepted your resignation from my regimen and your brothers are not quite ready to see you off," Captain Treville said in a firm voice.

"They sent me away…"

"Well, they are idiots who do not always think before they speak or act, but this I know…they did not truly want you to leave." Porthos looked up sheepishly at his captain and nodded, accepting fully the man's observation.

"Slept with 'thos' wife…hates me…"

"Athos hurries here to see you as we speak and if you are not here when he arrives, he will be very upset," Treville explained, shrugging his shoulders when Porthos gave him a questioning look.

"Does not want me."

Porthos drew d'Artagnan's attention and smiled when they met each other's eyes. "Athos risked 'is life to save you. 'e left when 'e thought you were no longer in danger because 'e did not feel worthy of you any longer," he said. When d'Artagnan only looked at him with confusion, he continued. "'e deeply regretted how 'e acted that night. 'e did not want to hurt you any further by being here when you awoke. 'e could not bear it if you turned him away and so 'e left, but d'Artagnan, Athos cares very deeply for you and would be lost if you went away, as would we all."

Porthos and Treville waited for the Gascon's reply, but the young man instead cried out in pain, his back arching off the bed as he squeezed his eyes shut. Both older men began to panic when nothing they did seemed to help the young man. After several long, agonizing minutes, d'Artagnan finally dropped back onto the mattress, exhausted beyond belief and breathing so shallow, the two men had to listen closely to hear it. Their hearts sank when he once again began to call weakly to his father, but when his words stopped and he went completely still, their hearts shattered. Porthos took the Gascon's face in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cried out for his brother to not leave.

"d'Artagnan! Please, do not leave us! Please!" Porthos wailed. He lifted the young man and pulled him to his chest. He buried his face in the crook of d'Artagnan's neck and sobbed as his captain stood helplessly by. Twenty minutes later still saw d'Artagnan gripped tenderly in Porthos' arms. The big man was no longer weeping, but tremors rippled through him as he gently rocked his brother back and forth, Captain Treville standing at his side, his hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. This was the scene that met Aramis and Athos as they burst into the room. A scene that nearly brought both men to their knees.

MMMMMMMMMM

Athos and Aramis were breathless as they ran through the garrison gates and up the stairs to the landing that would lead them to the infirmary. They burst through the door and stopped dead in their tracks. Porthos sat next to d'Artagnan's bed where Aramis had left him, Treville at his side, and wrapped in Porthos' arms was their little brother, limp and unmoving. By the way Porthos' shoulders shook, they could immediately tell that he was either crying, or had been very recently. Their entire world crumbled as reality hit them…their little brother was dead. They had been too late. Athos stumbled back as Treville turned to him, his eyes filled with deep sadness.

"No," Athos whispered, his eyes moving back to the bed. He couldn't move, could hardly breathe. He had abandoned his brother in his greatest time of need and now d'Artagnan was dead. He had died believing that Athos hated him and the enormity of it all had Athos dropping to his knees. He barely noticed as Aramis rushed to the bed, so deep was his grief. He watched with detachment as Aramis gently took d'Artagnan from Porthos' arms and laid him on the bed. He didn't comprehend what was happening when Aramis cried out and both Porthos and Treville jumped into action. It was only when Porthos ran to him and pulled him from the floor that he realized that Aramis was shaking their Gascon and calling out his name. He rushed to the bed, anger building at what he perceived as ill treatment of his beloved little brother.

"Aramis, why do you shake him?! He is our brother and he is dead…"

"No, Athos…d'Artagnan lives!" Aramis cried, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"But…"

"He is deeply unconscious, but he does breathe! Athos, he needs to hear your voice! Only you can bring him back!"

Athos looked from Aramis to d'Artagnan, uncertain as to what he should do. Suddenly, two strong hands gripped his arms and led him to the chair where he was gently pushed down to sit. He glanced up and met Porthos' gaze, the large man nodding toward their youngest member. He smiled appreciatively then turned back to the bed. Taking one limp hand in his he leaned down and began to speak.

"d'Artagnan, I am here. I am sorry that have not been here before, but you see, I am a fool. Our brothers have made me see the errors of my ways and I am here now," he softly said. "You need to fight this infection, my brother, for we…I…cannot bear to lose you. Please, d'Artagnan, fight with everything you have and I promise that I will make everything up to you when you are well."

Aramis watched as Athos continued to speak to their youngest brother. He flinched slightly when Porthos brought him a fresh bowl of cool water, but he accepted it with a smile and started the task of trying to cool their brother down. Treville watched his men for a few minutes, then sensing their need for privacy, he silently slipped from the room, heading straight to the kitchens to have Serge have food prepared for the men whom he knew would not be leaving the room for quite some time. Porthos pulled two chairs over from the table, one for Aramis and one for himself. When Serge and one other musketeer entered the room several minutes later, all three musketeers sat huddled around the bed, each one in contact with some part of d'Artagnan's body. They left the food on the table and quietly left the three men to their quiet vigil.

MMMMMMMMMM

For three days the Inseparables kept vigil at d'Artagnan's bedside while the young Gascon languished in unconsciousness. His fever was still quite high, though it had not risen any higher since Aramis and Athos had returned. The men took turns sleeping so that there was always someone at their brother's side, holding his hand and talking, just so that he knew he was not alone. At least they hoped that he knew. There had been no more calls to his father to which the men were extremely grateful. Now, they desperately needed him to wake up. They had been forced to administer water and broth to their brother by lifting him and carefully dribbling it into his mouth where he would instinctively swallow it down. They had not been able to get nearly enough into him, but some was better than none. All three men had gone hoarse from talking, but they kept up the litany because they needed d'Artagnan to hear them. They needed him to know that he was wanted and needed. Each hour that passed that the Gascon remained quiet and still upped the musketeer's anxiety and they were beginning to think that they were just prolonging the inevitable. It came to the point where they began questioning whether they were doing more harm than good to their brother.

It was late into the third night, Aramis was stretched out on the floor near the table, Porthos was asleep sitting in one chair next to the bed and Athos, who had barely slept over the three days was telling d'Artagnan for the millionth time how sorry he was, his head down, eyes on the hand that he held, that it happened. Athos looked up at d'Artagnan's face and gasped when two dark, dull eyes stared back at him. The Gascon's face was drenched in sweat, his hair already clinging to his forhead and though he said not a word, his eyes watched as Athos moved forward and cupped his cheek.

"d'Artagnan, you have come back to us," Athos breathed out, his voice immediately drawing Porthos from his slumber. The big man took one look at d'Artagnan, jumped from the chair and rushed to awaken Aramis. The medic was at the young man's bedside in a flash, his hand immediately going to check his forehead. Aramis let out a sigh and turned to meet the anxious faces of his brothers.

"His fever has broken," Aramis said, a bright smile spreading over his face. "Today is a joyous day!"

**Well, things look to be turning around for our musketeers! I'm just glad to have gotten Athos back where he belongs...the big stubborn oaf! So, let me know what you think and I'll get the next chapter posted as soon as I can!**

**Cindy**


	11. Chapter 11

**Wow, the response to the last chapter was amazing! Thank you all so much! Your kind words inspired me to get this next chapter done as quickly as I could :) We have the much needed Athos/d'Artagnan conversation. Yay! So, I'll let you get to it then!**

**Cindy**

**Chapter 11**

It was four days past the day that d'Artagnan's fever broke and the young Gascon's condition was improving, but not nearly as quickly as the Inseparable wished. The young man had been moved from the infirmary to his room, at his request because in his words, "I am fine now. I do not need to be in the sick room," to which his brothers had grinned widely, each one thrilled to finally be seeing their stubborn brother returning to his somewhat normal self. He wasn't fine though, at least not yet. The doctor had come to check on him earlier in the day and announced that though he was on the mend, he was not fully out of the woods. He was worried about his continued fever and the fact that the boy was still barely eating or taking in fluids. He had stated that he would need complete bed rest until his urine was clear of any blood, to which d'Artagnan had objected quite fervently. One look from Athos had stopped the objections and the Gascon had lowered his eyes to his hands as they rested on his lap and had whispered an apology. This quick change in mood had brought a frown to Athos' face and he wondered for the hundredth time if he would ever regain the same relationship he had had with the Gascon before everything went to hell. While d'Artagnan interacted with the three Inseparables, answering questions that were asked of him and following instructions with mostly no grumblings, he was still distant and nervous with them, especially with Athos. He had begun to come around with Porthos and Aramis, gracing them with small, shy smiles when they helped him to eat or drink, which was not often, or to do his business when needed, but things were not so progressed with Athos. He was still quiet and unsure with the elder musketeer, avoiding eye contact as much as possible and it was driving Athos insane. Finally, he could take no more and requested that Porthos and Aramis leave him with their youngest brother. The two had agreed and once they were out of the room and the door shut behind them, Athos turned his full attention onto the now fidgeting Gascon.

"d'Artagnan, we need to talk," Athos said as he sat on the chair next to the bed, his cool eyes studying the young man's face as he looked everywhere but at his mentor.

"We talk," d'Artagnan whispered, his gaze dropping to his lap.

"No, I talk and you answer. You do not trust me, still, and I do not know what it is that you need from me to regain that trust," Athos commented, his chin resting on his clasped hands, elbows on his knees.

d'Artagnan glanced up, but then dropped his eyes once again. "I trust you, Athos," he softly said in response.

"Then what is it? Why will you not look me in the eye? Why do I feel that even though you are right here in front of me, you are still so far away?" Athos asked.

Athos watched as d'Artagnan nervously played with the blanket's edge, the young man biting down on his lower lip, which Athos found so utterly endearing that he found himself yearning to reach out and draw the Gascon to his chest. Instead, he waited patiently for a reply. When it didn't come, he prompted further.

"d'Artagnan?"

A heavy sigh proceeding a soft, unsure voice said, "You have not forgiven me and…and I do not blame you, but…I…I truly wish that someday you can. I am ashamed, Athos…for what I did. I slept with your wife and…for…" d'Artagnan's words broke off into a sob and the young man turned his head away. He flinched when he felt a touch to his arm and slowly looked over to see Athos' hand resting at his wrist.

"d'Artagnan, there is nothing for me to forgive you for. I…"

"I am the reason my father is dead…you were right about that. Not for the reason you believe, but he is dead none the less and I did nothing to stop it. We were at that in because I insisted we stop," d'Artagnan glanced up at his brother, then dropped his eyes again, the young man unable to look into the eyes of the man he had betrayed so fully.

Athos closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He opened his eyes when he felt d'Artagnan pull his arm away from his touch. He had to end this and it had to be now. He cleared his throat and though d'Artagnan did not look up, he could tell that the Gascon was listening.

"Please, do not take to heart words spoken by a drunk and foolish man. You did nothing wrong. You did not know me when you slept with Milady and I know that you would never conspire with anyone against your brothers. And as for your father…that was a cruel thing for me to say. It was intended to hurt you and it did just that. I do not know if I can ever forgive myself for causing you such pain, yet I crave that forgiveness from you. It is I who needs to beg for forgiveness, d'Artagnan, not you." Athos dropped his gaze when he saw tears fill his brother's eyes. He could not bear to see the pain in their soulful depths. It was only when he felt the heat of d'Artagnan's hand fold over his hand that he looked up. He nearly gasped at the look in his brother's eyes.

d'Artagnan smiled warmly when he met his mentor's gaze and Athos felt his spirit soar with that one look. He nearly wept when that which he sought was freely given without hesitation. "Athos, of course you are forgiven. You are my brother and I would die for you in a second," the Gascon whispered, dark eyes finally holding Athos' gaze without dropping away after only a fleeting second.

Athos let out a half sob, half laugh as he pulled his brother up and into his arms. He rejoiced when he felt d'Artagnan return the embrace. Finally, after several moments, the men pulled away from each other. Athos eased d'Artagnan back against his pillows then leaned back in his chair. He looked at his brother and wondered once again at how easily the boy had found a place in his heart. He was special, there was no denying that and Athos felt privileged to have met him, as he knew his fellow Inseparables felt too. With the thought of his brothers he leaned forward once more.

"d'Artagnan?" he asked.

The Gascon looked up at him and smiled. "Yes, Athos? What is it?"

"Will you be forgiving our brothers, just as you have forgiven me? They are riddled with guilt and I know that guilt weighs heavily on their hearts," Athos replied.

"All is forgiven and forgotten," was the answer he received.

"You are an amazement, my young Gascon friend," Athos said. He was startled when another voice called from behind him.

"That he is," Aramis' voice sounded, bringing Athos' and d'Artagnan's attention to where both Aramis and Porthos stood. The two men walked to the bed with a little more pep in their step. They sat on the opposite side of the bed and the three elder men were content to just sit in silence in each other's presence and count their blessings that a near tragedy had been averted. They all smiled fondly when d'Artagnan's eyes began to droop. Though he fought to stay awake, exhaustion took over and soon d'Artagnan was fast asleep, a ghost of a smile on his lips. The three Inseparables were just about to join him in slumber when the young Gascon gasped and jerked awake.

"d'Artagnan! What is wrong?" Aramis cried as he rested his hand on the young man's forehead.

"I…I just remembered!" the Gascon cried softly.

"Remembered what?" Porthos asked warily.

"My father! He was murdered!"

Athos reached out and gently grasped the young man's shoulder, hoping the touch would comfort him. "d'Artagnan, we already know this…"

"No! It was not a random act. He was sought out!"

The three musketeers glanced at each other with dread in their eyes. Milady had told them something about Richelieu being interested in d'Artagnan, but the urgency of finding the boy had ended the conversation before they could be told anything else. Was it possible that the cardinal's interest was connected to d'Artagnan's father's death? Athos turned his attention back to d'Artagnan and squeezed his shoulder gently.

"d'Artagnan, what do you mean he was sought out?" he asked.

d'Artagnan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His heart pounded in his chest at what he had remembered. He opened his eyes and met his mentor's gaze. "Richelieu…he told me. My father died because Richelieu was afraid of him destroying him. There was bad blood, I do not know why, but the cardinal believed my father was coming to Paris not to demand relief from the taxes, but to give information that would destroy the cardinal. He had my father killed!"

"Oh, d'Artagnan. I am so sorry," Aramis whispered, the tone of his voice not betraying the rage he was feeling.

"There is more," d'Artagnan said as he moved his gaze to the medic.

"What is it?" Aramis asked.

"I…I was meant to die as well," d'Artagnan answered, the young man ignoring his brother's gasps as he continued. "Richelieu said that the d'Artagnan family name was meant to die that day with my father's and my deaths, but that his henchmen failed. When he found out that I had joined up with the musketeers, he hatched a new plan to not only destroy the musketeers, but me as well."

"That man is the devil," Porthos hissed.

"So, why did he want you to join the red guard? What would have happened if you would have said yes?" Athos asked coolly, though his mind was filled with rage.

"I suppose that once my defection to the red guard had done what he intended for it to do…hurt the Inseparables…he would have had me killed and dumped or buried somewhere."

"He needs to die! He will come after d'Artagnan again!" Porthos growled as he stood from his chair and began to pace the floor.

"No, I do not believe that he will. He must know by now that his plan was thwarted and that we know of his treachery. He is not so stupid as to make a move on d'Artagnan now," Athos reasoned, his hand still on d'Artagnan's shoulder.

"So what do we do now? He has to pay for what he has done," Aramis stated.

Athos sighed and looked at each of his brothers. "There is nothing we can do. There is no proof of any of this. Treville was right, the cardinal is untouchable," he said.

"He is not untouchable! I will kill him myself!" d'Artagnan hollered as he shot up and attempted to get out of bed. He gasped as pain shot through him and would have fallen to the floor if Athos had not been there to catch him.

"d'Artagnan! You cannot touch him! You will be hanged with no trial!" Athos cried as he tried to get the young man back into bed.

"So he gets away with it? I am supposed to just let this go? He had my father murdered, Athos!"

"I know, but you will have to be satisfied that someday he will get what he deserves. If you kill him, then you will be executed and then even in death, he will win."

d'Artagnan heard the truth in Athos' words and slumped onto the bed. His brothers helped to situate him so that he was comfortable, but they could see the devastation in his eyes and it killed them that they could not take that pain away. Porthos retook his seat and reached out and took the Gascon's hand. "d'Artagnan," he started, but stopped when his brother pulled his hand away and closed his eyes.

"I am tired. I wish to sleep now," d'Artagnan said, his voice tight as if he were on the edge of crying.

"Of course. You sleep. We'll be here when you wake up," Athos said.

d'Artagnan opened his eyes and looked at his brother. "You do not need to stay with me. I am on the mend and I am sure you all have better things to do than to watch over me," he said.

"Lad, there is no place that we need to be or would rather be than except right where we are," Aramis said, the medic smiling when d'Artagnan turned his sad gaze on him. "Please do not worry. These things tend to have a way of working themselves out. Richelieu will not get away with what he has done."

d'Artagnan gave Aramis a small, sad smile then whispered, "thank you," before closing his eyes once again. Within minutes the Gascon was asleep and his three brothers were left to wonder if their words could possibly be true. Would the cardinal pay for his sins? Or would he get away with the devastation he had caused to the one they held so dear?

**And things were going so well! Poor d'Artagnan :'( Please let me know what you think! Reviews are love 3**

**Cindy**


	12. Chapter 12

**Well, my friends, we have come to the final chapter. Thank you so much for sticking with me on this story. You have no idea how much fun this was :D I think I am hooked! I'm pretty sure that there will be more Musketeer stories down the line, but since I'm being bombarded with requests for a new Supernatural story, I'm not sure how long it will be. I have ignored the Winchesters for far too long. Thanks for reading and taking the time to leave me comments! I love to read each and every one of them! Okay, enough of all that...on with the final chapter!**

**Cindy**

**Chapter 12**

It took another four weeks for d'Artagnan to be fully back on his feet again, not quite at one hundred percent, but close. After one week he was allowed to be up and walking again, regaining strength in his legs that he had lost with his forced bed rest. After two weeks he was allowed a return to minimal training under the watchful eyes of his three brothers. With two weeks of minimal training, with a gradual increase in intensity under his belt, he was hard at it, training like a man on a mission. It would be another one or two weeks before Captain Treville would allow him on any big mission, much to the young Gascon's frustration. For the time being it was light duty, palace duty or short missions within the city limits and always with at least one of his brothers at his side.

It was during one of these palace duty placements that he had his first encounter with the cardinal since his whole ordeal had begun. The King and Queen were entertaining foreign dignitaries at a small reception and had requested the best musketeers in the regimen to stand guard during the festivities. The four men and their captain were placed around the room, all within eyeshot of each other when the cardinal entered the room through the door nearest to their youngest member. Four sets of eyes were immediately drawn in that direction and watched as the cardinal seemed to falter minutely upon seeing the man he had ordered to be tortured and killed standing straight and tall not ten feet away from him. The cardinal recovered quickly, lifting his chin as he sauntered up to the young man and stood before him. His cold eyes raked over the Gascon, his lip curled up into a hateful sneer.

"It appears as though you are much like a cat, musketeer," the cardinal hissed with distaste. "How many of your lives have you used up? You best be careful as the next time may be your last," he added with a smirk.

The Gascon met the cardinal's eyes and smiled. "You lost, Cardinal. I am still here, stronger than ever, and you…well, you have shown how weak you truly are, in spirit and character. God will judge your deeds and I am afraid that He will not look kindly upon them," d'Artagnan said, his chin held high as he held the gaze of the cardinal. "And as for a next time? There will be no next time, Cardinal. I know what kind of man you are now, as do my brothers. Men of honor will always defeat men without honor," he added with a cock of his head.

"Are you threatening me, musketeer?" the cardinal hissed, a flash of worry in his cold eyes.

"There is no threat, Cardinal. You know what you have done…God knows what you have done…and most of all, my brothers know what you have done. One always pays for their sins, it is only a matter of time," the Gascon replied.

The cardinal stood there for a few moments more, staring hatefully at the young musketeer. The others watched intently, but stood their ground knowing that the cardinal would not attempt anything in the presence of the King. Finally, the cardinal broke eye contact with d'Artagnan and turned away. He walked away, though one could see that his steps were not as sure as they usually were. The air of arrogance that normally surrounded him was replaced by a cloud of doubt. It was clear to the Inseparables and their captain that whatever the Gascon had said to Richelieu had hit a nerve. The four men schooled their faces as they turned their attention to d'Artagnan. Athos gave a slight tilt of his head…_are you okay?_...to which d'Artagnan returned the gesture with a small nod…_yes, I am fine._ The men relaxed then and the festivities went on late into the afternoon. Finally, they were released and they met together outside the reception hall.

"The cardinal did not seem happy," Porthos said as soon as the four musketeers and their captain converged.

d'Artagnan grinned as he met the big man's gaze. "Shall we just say he was quite taken aback by seeing me there?" he said.

"He had to have known that you had been rescued," Aramis stated as he looked around the circle of friends.

"I do not know. When he saw me he looked like he had seen a ghost," d'Artagnan replied.

"He would have questioned why Gregoire had not reported to him of your death and may have sent guards out to check the house. He would have to know that something had happened when they did not find any of his red guard, his prisoner or his interrogator," Aramis argued.

"He could have reasoned that the musketeers had found the house, but were too late," d'Artagnan offered. "It would be reasonable to assume that the bodies had been cleared out, including mine."

"Yes, that is a reasonable assumption," Captain Treville said.

"And since none of us have been to the palace since before your abduction, he probably also assumed that we were too devastated to perform our duties," Athos added.

"He probably thought that he had won and when he saw our young Gascon, all of which he thought he had gained crumbled before his eyes," Aramis said.

"What did he say to you? Did he threaten you?" Athos asked with concern.

"He spoke of cats and their many lives and said that I should be careful as the next one could be my last life," d'Artagnan answered.

Porthos growled, his hands fisting at his sides. "And what did you say in return?" he asked.

"I said that there would be no next time. I told him that he had lost and that only men of honor win in the end," d'Artagnan replied.

"Well, it did seem to take the wind out of his sails," Aramis stated.

"Still, we need to be extra vigilant. He is a vengeful man and I know that this does not sit well with him," Athos said.

"I do not need a babysitter, Athos," d'Artagnan said, the young man reading between the lines of what his mentor had said, all too aware of the protective nature of his brothers, a protectiveness that had gone into overdrive since his rescue from the cardinal's interrogator.

"But you do need extra eyes on your back. This is not up for discussion. Until we are sure that the cardinal will not try to bring harm to you again, you will not be left to your own devices," Athos drawled, his blue eyes staring hard at the young man.

"You leave the cardinal to me. d'Artagnan will not have to worry about looking over his shoulder," Captain Treville said, a small quirk curling his lip.

"Why? What is it that you know that we do not?" Athos asked curiously.

"I will fill you all in after I have a little chat with Richelieu," Captain Treville answered.

With that, Treville left his soldiers in search of Richelieu. He had a card up his sleeve and now was as good a time as any to use it.

MMMMMMMM

Treville entered the cardinal's office, surprising the man as he paced near the window by his desk. Richelieu turned quickly and narrowed his eyes as Treville made his way to him.

"Captain Treville, what a pleasant surprise," Richelieu said, a sickly sweet smile suddenly on his face.

"I think it will be not so pleasant once you have heard what I have to say, Cardinal," Treville answered, his distaste for the man before hidden under a smile of his own.

Richelieu studied the man before him then moved to sit behind his desk. "I highly doubt that whatever you have to say could possibly ruin my day, Treville."

"You mean ruin it more than seeing our young d'Artagnan, alive and well?" Treville asked.

The cardinal flinched slightly at that, but schooled his face as he looked up at the captain of the musketeers. "I am sure I do not know what you speak of. Why would your newest musketeer not be alive and well?"

Treville smiled and moved closer to the desk. "You know quite well why, Cardinal. After all, we did rescue the Gascon from your secret hideaway. I believe you will be in need of a new interrogator as well?" he said smugly. "And a few more red guard? Not that even an extra thousand red guard could equal my current regimen of musketeers, mind you."

"You speak of fairy tales, Treville. I have no secret hideaway," Richelieu spat.

"No, of course you do not. Why would you have need of such a place, far removed from the main parts of the city, seemingly abandoned and unused? You would never take men there to be tortured for whatever selfish reasons you may have. You are a man of God and He would frown upon such actions, correct?" Treville said.

The cardinal paled slightly, but kept his gaze upon Treville. "What is the purpose of this visit, other than to spout nonsense? I am a busy man and do not have time for such stories."

"You will leave d'Artagnan, and all of my men alone from this moment on. Your vendetta against the Gascon's family is over. You had his father killed, but failed in your attempt to end his life as well…both times. If you make another attempt, I will go to the King," Treville growled.

"You will go to the King with what!? He would never believe you, Treville," Richelieu hissed as he pushed to his feet. "You come here threatening me? I am untouchable! Why would you risk your credibility for the likes of that whelp? He is nothing! A poor farm boy from Gascony, nothing more!"

Treville took several moments to calm himself then glared at the man before him. "That whelp…that poor farm boy from Gascony has more honor and integrity in his little toe than you could ever hope to have, Cardinal. God sees all and you should be very frightened for your soul. Leave the Gascon alone, drop this fight you have with the musketeers and I will not be forced to go to the King," he commanded with barely contained rage.

Richelieu's heart pounded in his chest, but he refused to let the man before him see his fear. The King would never believe the captain of the musketeers, the cardinal thought to himself. He was merely attempting to strong arm him into obeying his commands. "Once again, Treville, the King would never believe you. I have his ear like no other. Your threats are meaningless."

Treville smiled and cocked his head as he continued to watch the cardinal. "You know, Richelieu…one should not hide important papers in the same place where he conducts his less than pious affairs. I can only come to the conclusion that you would keep these certain plans there rather than have them found in your rooms at the palace," he said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

The cardinal stumbled back at Treville's words, his hand reaching for the desk to steady himself. His face paled considerably as he stared wide eyed at his adversary. When he didn't speak, Treville continued.

"I see that you have nothing to say, Cardinal. Well, I have plenty," Treville began. "Imagine my surprise when one of my musketeers returned from your hideaway with a lock box, found hidden in the floorboards. Now, imagine my disgust when upon opening this lock box, I found plans for many different schemes that answer a great number of questions about past events. Among those were the plans outlining the framing of Athos using the captain of your red guard, Gaudet and the ordered killings of Alexandre and Charles d'Artagnan for personal and selfish reasons." Treville watched as the cardinal edged around his desk to sit heavily upon his chair once more. All color had now left the cardinal's face and it took him several moments to look up at the seething man before him.

"The…the King will never believe that these papers are m-mine. All I have to say is that they were manufactured to destroy me," Richelieu stammered, though it was easy to see that he knew he was in deep trouble.

"Papers in your own handwriting? With your seal?" Treville inquired. "There is no disputing who gave these orders, Cardinal. Past and future plans."

Richelieu took several deep breaths to steady himself before he spoke. "Why do you not take this to the King now? I am sure you would like nothing better than to see me exiled or hanged?" he asked weakly.

Treville considered the cardinal's words before he spoke. "I do not take them to the King now because I know that the things you have done, no matter how wrong, have been for your love of France, even your personal vendetta against Alexandre d'Artagnan. As you said, you have the King's ear and Louis does need someone with your political intellect to help guide his decisions. He needs you as his confidante, but now hear this, Cardinal…I can take this information to the King at any time. Leave d'Artagnan and my musketeers alone and your secret will be safe with me, but do or say anything against my men or myself and I will not hesitate to bring your crimes to light."

The cardinal took a deep breath and nodded at Treville. "You have my word, Treville," he said.

"Good," Treville said as he turned to leave the cardinal to his thoughts. He stopped and looked back around at the still pale man. "One more thing, Cardinal," he said.

"What is it now?" the cardinal asked warily.

"d'Artagnan has yet to receive his deserved compensation for the loss of his farm at the hands of LeBarge," Treville said with a slight grin.

The cardinal closed his eyes and sighed. "I will see to it that this oversight has been corrected immediately," he said in resignation.

"Thank you, Cardinal. It has been a pleasure," Treville said. He turned and walked away before the cardinal could respond and left the man shaking at his desk, a wide smile on his face.

Richelieu watched the man go with narrowed eyes. Once the door to his office had shut he pushed to his feet and swept the contents of his desk top to the floor in a fit of rage. How could he have been so stupid? He thought that keeping certain papers separate from his offices would protect his hidden endeavors, but had instead led to the captain of the musketeers knowing his deepest secrets. What a fool he had been. His uncontrolled desire to bring an end to the d'Artagnan name had been his downfall and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew without a doubt that if Treville even suspected him of any back door dealings, he would go directly to the King. His hands were tied and he had no choice but to honor his word with the captain, as much as it hurt him to do so. He could not touch the musketeers now. He frowned as he headed to the door of the office. Everything had changed now, all of his plans destroyed, all because of one insignificant little farm boy.

**MMMMMMMM**

The four musketeers watched Treville's departure then turned in the opposite direction to make their own. Their duties were done for the day and they had wine to drink and food to eat and merriment to participate in together. They left the palace grounds with a lightness in their steps that had been missing for so long. They each wondered in their minds what exactly Treville had meant, but since they trusted him completely they did not dwell. Treville would tell them when he deemed it time. They entered a pub near the garrison and took a table in a far corner. They ordered wine and stew and bread. They had been at the pub for less than a half hour when Athos noticed a woman enter. She wore a deep red, hooded cloak and kept to the shadows so there was no way to see her face, but Athos knew who it was just by the way she moved. He narrowed his eyes as he watched her take a seat at a table far removed from them, but where she could see them through the crowd.

"Excuse me for a moment," Athos said as he stood from his seat and moved away from the table.

"Where are you going?" d'Artagnan asked curiously, a mug of wine held tight in his hand.

Athos turned to his young friend and smiled. "I thought I saw someone that I know. I will be right back, after I say hello," he said before moving through the crowd, the smoke and shadows swallowing him up as his friends continued to drink. He could feel her eyes on him as he moved toward her and he couldn't stop the tremor that went up his back. Once he reached her table he sat in the chair opposite her, blocking her view of the rest of the room.

"What are you doing here, Anne?" Athos hissed, his eyes cold as he stared her down.

"What? I needed a drink? What is it to you?" Milady asked coolly.

"You are following us," Athos drawled. "You could have picked any number of pubs if you truly needed a drink."

"I happen to like this one," Milady replied with a shrug of her shoulder.

Athos reached across the table and gripped the woman's wrist, pulling a short gasp of pain from her. "You stay away from d'Artagnan, Anne...you stay away from him or I will finish the job that I failed at five years ago," he spat venomously.

Milady wrench her arm free and glared at her husband. "If not for me, he would be dead, Athos! I think I have the right to see him…to see that he has recovered!" she hissed.

"If not for you, he would have never been taken in the first place! You have seen him, now you will go and you will never come near him again! Do you understand?" Athos said through clenched teeth.

"Maybe I am not done with him, or with you," Milady said with a sly grin.

"You failed, Anne. Richelieu is not a stupid man…I am sure he at least has suspicions about how his secret house was found. I think that you will need to find a new employer. You did not destroy me and now that I know you are back, you will never achieve that goal. Leave Paris, I do not care where you go, but if I see you again I will finish you," Athos threatened.

When Milady simply stared at him, he leaned across the table, a sneer on his face. "I am not kidding, Anne. If you come near him again, I will kill you."

Milady glared at her husband then pushed to her feet. "Fine…have it your way. I will leave the boy alone, but if he comes to me, well, there is nothing I can do about that," she hissed.

"He will not seek you out. He knows the kind of woman you are now."

"We will see," Milady said before turning and walking away.

Athos watched as Milady left the pub then returned to his friends. He met the suspicions looks from Porthos and Aramis, both of which had discreetly watched the meeting while d'Artagnan had drank, blissfully unaware of the goings on around him. He shook his head and took his seat. d'Artagnan looked up as Athos sat and smiled widely.

"Athos! Did you find your friend?" the Gascon asked merrily, his hand clapping the older man's shoulder.

"No…it was a case of mistaken identity," Athos answered.

"Oh, I am sorry," d'Artagnan said with a frown.

"No need for that. Now, did you save me any wine?" Athos replied with a grin that nearly matched the one on d'Artagnan's face.

"Of course!" d'Artagnan quipped as he poured his mentor a mug of wine.

The evening rolled on and many more bottles were drank. Finally, Athos decided that it was time to get his young, drunk friend back to his room. The musketeers left the pub, the youngest held up by two of his brothers lest he face plant in the street. Once they had him in his room and tucked safely in his bed, the three Inseparables stood and watched for a few moments as he slept. They left the Gascon to his dreams and went their separate ways for the night.

It was a week later and the four brothers were sitting at their table in the garrison yard when a page from the palace entered the yard and walked directly up to them. "Charles d'Artagnan?" the page asked as he stood before the men. d'Artagnan rose to his feet and bowed his head slightly. "I am Charles d'Artagnan," he said in answer. The page handed the young musketeer a letter and a small parcel, bowed and left the yard without another word. d'Artagnan and the others watched as the young man left, then the three Inseparables turned their attention to their Gascon. d'Artagnan broke the seal of the letter and began to read. His mouth dropped open in surprise and he hurriedly tore open the parcel, his eyes going wide at what only he could see at this point.

Worried at such behavior, his brothers stood and moved beside him. "What is it, d'Artagnan?" Athos asked as he watched his protégé.

d'Artagnan looked up at his friends and smiled softly. "Compensation…for the loss of my father's farm…and a letter signed by the cardinal himself, apologizing for the erroneous delay," d'Artagnan answered, his voice nearly a whisper by the shock of it all.

"Seriously?" Porthos asked as he leaned his head over d'Artagnan's shoulder to get a look at the parcel. His eyes widened as his mouth dropped open. "'e is not kidding!" he cried as he clapped the young man on the back and let out a deep laugh.

Athos took the letter from d'Artagnan's hand and read it, his eyes coming up to meet the Gascon's gaze when he was finished. He smiled as he gave his protégé a nod. He turned when d'Artagnan lifted his eyes and stared at something past him. Captain Treville stood on the landing outside of his office, gazing down at his four best and smiled knowingly as he met each man's eyes. The four nodded back then watched as Treville returned to his office.

"Well, that was quite unexpected," Aramis stated.

"That it was!" Porthos quipped. "It appears as though drinks are on our young friend tonight!" he added with a grin.

The men left the garrison, their hearts lighter than they had been for ages. They reached the pub and took their normal table in the corner. They ordered drink and food, and while they waited, they simply enjoyed the pleasure of each other's company. They glanced at each other and smiled. Their brotherhood had been tested and though they had nearly lost their beloved little brother, they had come out of it with the brotherhood stronger than ever. Their food and wine arrived and the night was spent telling stories and laughing with each other. They were friends and brothers and forever they would stay that way…All for one, and one for all.

**The End**

**That's it guys. I know that some probably wanted a more direct punishment for the cardinal, but in the realm of the show, that would have been nearly impossible. I hope that my version of his punishment will suffice! I thought about bringing Constance in for at least one scene, but just couldn't work it out on how to do that. I'm sure she will show up in a future story though. So, please let me know what you thought of the ending and once again...thank you so much for reading!**

**Cindy**


End file.
